Victors
by GatnissShamyClato
Summary: An alternate ending of the 74th Hunger Games where Cato and Clove win. What would have happened afterwards? Things aren't as easy as they may have thought... All reviews and feedback are really appreciated! ClovexCato
1. The Games

**My clato fanfiction, as promised. Hope you enjoy this first chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters (unfortunately).**

As hard as I tried, I couldn't help but grin uncontrollably at the situation that Cato and I were currently in. Our risky plan to win the Hunger Games and bring pride to our District was going all too smoothly. Even the major issue of there being only one winner and two of us, that Cato and I had repeatedly unable to find a solution to, had been miraculously solved as the gamemakers had changed the rules to allow to tributes from the same District to become victors. Now only Cato and I and the two idiots from twelve remained. It had all turned out pretty perfectly – there was no _way_ we could fail now. Not against them. I personally had never doubted our immanent success but Cato hadn't always shared my confidence - until now, that is, when there was no denying it. He was smirking as much as me; I'm sure as able to taste the undoubted victory.

The safe haven of the cornucopia that surrounded us only offered minimal protection in a literal sense but gave me a satisfied feeling of power and superiority that I was sure was radiating from my smug expression. Cato must have caught on to my pride, for making it as far as we had, and anticipation, for those final, winning kills, as he laughed lightly, tossing his sword from side to side.

"What?" I purred grinning, knowing that he'd be feeling the exact same way.

"Nothing," he chuckled, absently running his hand through his hair. He placed the sword down on the lush grass beside where we were both sitting in the centre of the open space, just _daring_ someone to attack. "You really are insane, you know that?"

I sighed, twisting a strand of my long, dark ponytail around my finger. "I know. But you can hardly talk."

Cato just shrugged, smiling lazily.

"So what's the plan?" I asked. Despite being perfectly capable, if not better suited, to devising a plan of action to end the District 12 leftovers myself, I allowed Cato to have his moment of glory. Cato gets his enjoyment, the tributes die, and it's a win-win. Cato seemed to sense that I was humouring him letting him take the lead even though I easily could have but didn't say anything about it. He wasn't the type to express himself through a gushing thank you; the recognition in his voice was enough to please me. Our relationship was simple – I preferred it that way.

"Well," he began, smirking in that malicious, sexy way that generally inferred that someone was about to suffer. In other words, my favourite type of smile. "The sun's almost set. We may as well wait for tomorrow, then attack. Give them one last, pathetic day."

I nodded as much to myself as him. It seemed like a good enough plan, although I didn't know why he insisted on waiting until tomorrow. I'd rather allow them as little time to make the first move as possible. It was all about the theatrics though; we had to please the audiences. I wasn't worried about their attack – of course we'd defeat them, almost painfully easily – more the fact that we'd look weak. True victors attack first, rather than waiting like cowards. The reason I chose not to voice my concerns was because they were so small that they practically didn't exist. If there was one thing that Cato and I were _not,_ it was cowards. And anyone with a brain already knew that. So I didn't bother worrying about it all too much.

"Just one condition," I growled.

"Let me guess – you want the girl for yourself?" he laughed.

I grinned, baring teeth.

"You know it."

"Well, what if I want her too? The boy will be too easy. I'm bored at the thought."

"No way," I exclaimed, "that's my kill. Go get your own."

"Why don't you come over here and make me?" he teased, probably joking. Before I could stop myself, I whipped a delicate yet deadly knife out of my jacket and leaped onto his broad frame, pressing the blade against his throat until a trickle of blood seeped out. He threw me off him immediately, violently enough so that I ended up on my back with him looming over me. We both wore fierce expressions of rage plastered on our faces but our eyes were sparkling with humour. Unlike the boring lives that 'normal' couples lead, Cato and I enjoyed the same kind of banter that few others seemed to.

Finally he rolled off of me and we both returned to the identical sitting positions that we had been in before, albeit a little more out of breath. Cato raised a hand to his throat which was still dripping slightly with blood. I raised my eyebrows, amused, waiting for him to speak. It didn't take long.

"Fine, you can have her," he groaned, giving in. "I'll just have to make Peeta's death extra long so I don't get too bored."

I snorted. "You would have done that anyway."

He just laughed, confirming my suspicions.

After a while, I slowly closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to drift to how like would be when we escaped this depressing arena. The look on everyone back home in District 2's faces, the pride shining down on us. But what I was really looking forward to was the _fear_. Everyone would fear us once we were victors, no one would dare look down upon me. Although, to be honest, extremely few did so already. And those who did generally ended up regretting it. Practically everyone my age or below was scared of me, even some who were older. Despite my size and gender, people in District 2 understood that I meant business and would never, ever back down from a fight, never mind lose one. That was what separated Cato and I from the other incompetent careers – we had earned peoples fear, demonstrated our courage back home. People like Glimmer and Marvel assumed that since they wee from District 1, everyone would bow down to them. I'll be they hadn't even killed anyone before he games. Weak. That's what they all were. And that's why they were all now dead.

Glimmer, the stupid, stuck-up girl from 1 who'd had had her eye on Cato since day one, hadn't even been killed by another tribute, but by the gamemakers effectively, through the tracker jacker nest that they had planted in the arena. How embarrassing. Cato and I would never bring shame to our District like that. I'd rather have been killed.

There was only one thing that would or could kill me in these pathetic games and that was Cato. Although, somehow I doubted that would happen. The false alliance that we had been forced to join with the other careers had been one of the worst parts about being in the games. The unbelievable level of patheticness that radiated off of every single one of them was enough to drive me insane. Well, more insane than I already was.

"I can't wait to get out of here," I muttered. Back to the comfort of District 2 where the people feared me for the right reasons; because they knew me. Although the games had given me a lot of support and 'fans', I refused to accept the Capitol's fake adoration. They only did it because of who they'd seen me kill, not because of who I was.

"Soon," was all Cato replied, smirking to himself.

I couldn't smile back, scowling and tapping my foot repeatedly against the grass impatiently. How much longer would we have to endure this for? Not being able to leave this stupid arena that reeked of death and desperation.

Cato snarled under his breath, silencing me with a stare. I glowered at him for a while before deciding to let it go. Our silent conversation mirrored many we'd been having of late, unable to express our true thoughts through speech due to the huge number of people watching.

Another reason I wanted to leave this God-awful arena already – to have some alone time with Cato. Come on, a girl has needs. We hadn't been intimate in weeks. Our only time alone was now, once almost all the other tributes were dead, but still didn't allow for us to actually do anything. The cameras hidden everywhere made sure of that.

_Stop thinking about that, _I ordered myself. The weakness in my thoughts was shameful. But that was my one weakness: Cato.

It was definitely not the time to get distracted by such things at that moment, though – I had to remain completely focused until we'd won. It wasn't hard to switch off my personal thoughts and focus on the task at hand - I'd been training for this moment since I was seven years old, Cato the same. There was no _way_ we could lose now.

The artificial sun had now completely set, leaving us engulfed in darkness. I longed to go hunting but decided to bite my tongue and go along with Cato's plan, despite my concerns. What's the worst that could happen? (_Right_).

The silence, which had been comforting and peaceful, suddenly seemed… off. Less… silent. I slowly raised myself into a crouch, cocking my head to the side, listening intently.

"What-"

"Shh!" I hissed at Cato. Couldn't he see I was doing something?

Suddenly, there was an almighty crash and my vision was blurred with an array of movement. I ignored the shapes to my right, whatever they were, my eyes unable to look away from the horror in front of me. Three huge, boar-like monsters were charging towards us at full speed, gnashing their teeth in savage hunger. Work of the gamemakers, no doubt, for the big finale. After taking less than a second to process this, I leaped to feet, dragging Cato with me. He gave me a leg up to the roof of the cornucopia, where the beasts couldn't reach, then I yanked him up behind me. I heard Cato cussing about how he had left the sword on the ground.

Panting and shaking at how fast it had all happened, I glanced over to where there had been movement earlier. I saw four other of the wild animals galloping towards the cornucopia from another direction. They seemed to be following… It was only then that I noticed the two other people that were hauling themselves on to the opposite end of the cornucopia roof. The gamemakers must have wanted us to all be pushed together. Well, well, well. I thought my midnight snack was due.

"Cato, look," I grinned, nodding as the two idiots were collapsed in exhaustion, unaware of our presence. I wondered how long they'd been running for.

_How stupid are they?_ I wondered internally. Thinking that they could come to the cornucopia without us being here, waiting. This was our territory and they should have known that, I didn't care if they were chased here or not.

Before I had time to scare them into noticing us with a mocking comment, they became acutely aware of our presence by themselves. Well, Katniss did and quickly alerted Peeta, much to my disappointment. Why did she bother him? Oh, yeah – they were in 'love'. District 12 wouldn't know love if It slapped her in the face.

By this time, they had picked their pathetic selves up off the roof the cornucopia and Katniss was standing in a fighting stance with her bow and arrow ready to shoot, Peeta perched awkwardly behind her. I failed to smother my laughter at the idiocy of them, Cato doing the same. I looked over at him and when our eyes met I laughed even harder at how he had reacted in exactly the same way.

"Shut up!" Peeta shouted, doing his best to sound menacing, as if that weed ever could.

"Ooh, look who finally grew a pair," I leered, trying to hush my mocking laughter. "Why don't you come over here and make me?" I challenged, repeating Cato's earlier words. I may have been smiling, but the challenge was genuine. I bored easily of the two buffoons that stood in front of me, itching to fight.

The beasts below, that were now circling the cornucopia panted and growled in frustration, which only added to my desire to kill. I wanted out of this arena as quickly as possible.

"Well?" Cato snapped, clearly as agitated as me.

I rolled my eyes as they both stood there looking lost and vulnerable. How on earth had they made it to the final four of the Hunger Games?

As I went to reach for a knife from my jacket to speed up the pointless stare off, Katniss jumped at my sudden movement, sending an arrow shooting from her bow. The silver, Capitol-made arrow landed squarely in my left shoulder. I took a sharp intake of breath before biting down on my lip hard, refusing to expose the searing pain that was shooting down my arm. _You've had worse. Do not let her think you're weak. _I looked down and ripped the silver stick out of my flesh, ignoring the screaming protests that my brain was throwing at me.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that, bitch."

Cato snarled menacingly in fury – overprotective, as ever. .Surely he should know that I could fight my own battles.

Katniss seemed surprised at my lack of response or pain – well, good – and hastily loaded up another arrow.

"Cato, can we hurry this up? I'm bored," I declared, trying to hide my wince and sound as blasé as possible despite the blood pouring out of my wound.

This time, when Katniss show her arrow, it was no accident, but Cato and I weren't stupid and it easily sailed past us.

"That all you got, twelve?" Cato taunted as we edged forwards. I hated the way that both Peeta and Katniss were starring at me as if they wanted to take me out first, as if I was the weaker one. Physically, Cato was obviously stronger than me, but with all our skills considered, we were fairly evenly matched. So the way they assumed that I would be easy to kill made my insides flood with rage. Sure, my shoulder may have been screaming in agony and oozing with blood but that did _not_ make me the easier target. And I could prove it to them.

As I moved, Katniss shot again, this time hitting me in the thigh. I furiously scolded myself for letting out a tiny howl of pain before I got my pathetic self under control. _Take. Her. Out. _my mind ordered in a scream. Before I'd had a chance to _end _Katniss Everdeen, though, Cato roared, flinging himself as her and crashing them both to the ground. I heard the satisfying squeal that came from Katniss as Cato tore the bow and arrows from her grip and tossed them into the beasts circling below. I was about to go and help him finish her off, since it was me who'd claimed her kill, when I was suddenly sent tumbling to the hard surface beneath me, hitting my head with a crack. Ow.

I took a second to recover the breath that had been knocked out of me and whilst doing so, attempted to find out _who the hell had pushed me. _Oh, _Peeta. _I had completely forgotten about him, standing like a useless, incapable idiot at the edge of the cornucopia roof. Somehow, he had landed on top of me and was attempting to pin me down. Well, we'd soon change that. I swiftly bought my knee up to his stomach and used his hesitation to flip him onto his back. Now that I had the upper hand he didn't look so smug. Just as I was taking a knife out to clean up the mess that was District 12, Peeta landed a punch squarely in my injured shoulder. I whimpered, reaching for my shoulder instinctively. Peeta used my second of weakness to shove me off him and leap to his feet. Despite the protests from my body, I quickly followed, attack him without hesitation. I curled my arms around his neck from behind in a vice-like grip.

Finally, he went still when he felt the cool, long blade that I was holding against his throat. Wise.

"You really think you can win, don't you?" I panted, trying to sound intimidating but probably failing. Never mind, the knife did most of the work for me, intimidation-wise. All I had to do was hold it.

I didn't bother waiting for his answer. "Well you can't. So you may as well accept that."

"Who says we can't?" he choked, attempting to sound tough.

I leant close to his ear and pressed my lips rights against it, breathing in his face. "Me," I whispered, causing him to flinch slightly.

I glanced over and Cato and Katniss who weren't actually fighting at that moment, just circling each other like hungry sharks. Good. I wanted her to see this.

"Hey, Girl on Fire," I called, a smile clear in my voice. This had all turned out rather well.

Katniss spun to face me, as did Cato with a questioning look on his face. Katniss took one look at Peeta and mouthed his name, looking pale.

"No, don't – Peeta," she whispered, frozen in place.

I stayed statue-still for a couple of seconds longer for a bit of extra drama. I bet the viewers were loving this. I waited for Katniss to tear her gaze away from Peeta and look me in the eyes before I spoke.

"Happy Hunger Games," I sneered with a grin as I ripped the blade of the knife across Peeta's throat and felt the warm blood trickle onto my hand.

"_No!_" Katniss screamed deafeningly. "_No! Peeta!_"

She went to run at me but Cato grabbed her arms and held her back. Peeta's body slowly went limp in my hands and as I let go, he flopped on to the floor, dead. The canon sounded dramatically.

Katniss was still screaming, although now she had collapsed on to the floor in a sobbing heap – no need for Cato to restrain her.

"_Peeta_! No, no, no…"

My eyes connected with Cato's and I nodded. Her glanced once more at Katniss before jogging over to where I was standing, checking me over for wounds.

"You okay?" he asked, running his hand through over my head – it came back red. "You're bleeding."

I rolled my eyes. "Cos that's never happened before."

Cato ignored me, looking at my shoulder and steaming on with his next question. "How bad is it?"

Cato was the one person in the world who I could be completely honest with but I had to remind myself that the whole of Panem was watching us. I couldn't afford to look weak.

"It's nothing."

"I can tell when you're lying, Clove," he insisted. Damn him. I just scowled, remaining silent. Cato sighed. "Come on, talk to me. It's not like she's listening," he nodded to Katniss.

I supposed that the audience was more likely to be focused on Katniss right now, anyway.

"Fine," I snapped, exasperated, "it's bad, okay? Like really bad. The blood hasn't stopped since she hit me. Happy now?"

"Of course not, dummy. Look, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get someone to see your shoulder. And leg. And anything else."

"I know. So what are we going do to?"

Cato shrugged unhelpfully. "All we can do – kill her."

I nodded, taking a deep breath to calm my shaking hands and blurring vision. All this blood loss was definitely not helping.

I turned around at the sound of a struggle and gasped because Katniss had Cato gripped from behind and was yanking him by the hair. _Oh no she didn't_.

Instinctively, I reached for a knife from my pocket and with a deft flick of my wrist, sent it plunging into Katniss's arm. She screamed, yanking her hand away from a now very angry Cato. In other words… dangerous.

Furiously, Cato backhanded Katniss so that she slid almost all of the way over the cornucopia roof. He then picked her up by the collar of her jacket and shook her around like a worthless rag doll.

"What makes you worthy of winning this thing?" he spat at her in rage. "What have you done to deserve it more than Clove and me? Idiots from twelve _do not win_. It's over and you know it, Girl on Fire. I did promise Clove she could have you, when it came down to it, but you just crossed a line. _Do not ever_ think that you're stronger than a career. If you think that for a second, then… well, then I guess you'll end up how you are now. I guess you'll be seeing loverboy sooner than you thought, huh?"

And with that, he spun her around and kicked her squarely in the back, sending her toppling over the edge.

Her shrieks and cried didn't die down at all as the huge monsters tore apart, slowly and painfully, limb by limb. I knew that she deserved what she was getting; she had sent the tracker jacker nest falling on us, she'd shot me twice with her bow, she would have killed me if she could have. But another, annoying part of my brain insisted that I would have done the same to her. _She hurt Cato_, I whined. The sensible part of me reminded me that I had killed Peeta first. I had always been under the impression that Katniss and Peeta's love was an act for the Capitol, but judging by her reaction – well, I guess I was wrong. And I had gone and killed him in front of her. _If she had killed Cato—_I couldn't even finish that thought.

Hissing at myself for looking so soft in front of everyone watching but still unable to stop, I marched over to the edge of the roof and soon spotted Katniss thrashing and screaming below, surrounded by mutts. I stared at her for a second before throwing a razor-sharp blade in the general direction of her heart. It must have worked because the whimpering abruptly cut off and the beats soon lost interest and galloped off into the forest. The boom of the canon echoed through my head, reminding me of the throbbing pain coming from the spot where Peeta had attacked me.

A beat of silence followed.

Cato rushed over ad engulfed me in his arms and for the first time in a long while, I didn't – I _couldn't _resist. I collapsed against his broad frame and allowed myself to soak in the fact that we had won, that I'd get to stay with Cato as long as I wanted. We would both walk out of this alive. How impossible was that? _I will not cry, I will _not_ cry…_ Tears burned behind my eyes but I refused to shed them. There were tears of happiness of the future with Cato that was now secure, tears of regret for the deaths that I'd inflicted and simply tears of _shock_ that it was finally all over. It was _over_.

"Congratulations, tributes," Claudius Templesmith's voice came from above, piercing the silence. "I give you, your tributes from District 2."

I imagined the Capitol audiences going crazy, the District 2 people's faces. We were famous. We had _won_. All of my life I'd trained for this moment and, despite what some people may have thought, I was grateful for it. Cato and I would finally have the life that we deserved without having to worry about the stupid Hunger Games.

Cato's eyes burned into mine. "We won," he whispered in awe. "We won."

"Told you we would," I grinned, laughing slightly hysterically at the surreal situation. I had dreamt about this for so long but now that we'd actually won…

He tilted my face up to his and gently lowered his lips to touch my own. The moment was so perfect that I didn't even mind when the tears spilled over.

**Please let me know what you think :) x**


	2. Home is Where the Heart is

**Second chapter, enjoy.**

I had spent my life being told that the Hunger Games were dangerous, that they changed you. But it had never really sunk in until it had happened to me. My life was completely different now; I was a different person. I wanted to shout and blame everyone else. I wanted to scream that no one had warned me that this would happen but they had, of course. They all had.

Even so, it wasn't as if I'd actually volunteered for the games, I had been picked as tribute. Though I couldn't really blame that on the Capitol because if I hadn't been chosen I would have ended up volunteering at one point or another.

Everything had changed so much, I had been so unprepared. Cato was one of the only things that had remained constant and reliable throughout the madness. Without him… I don't know how I could have survived, really.

After we had been released from the arena, my arm and leg had been fixed up easily by the Capitol, Cato's injuries the same. President Snow had then crowned Cato and I official victors. As I had looked into his eyes, I remember thinking how I had never, ever seen eyes so cold and unforgiving. I supposed that was fitting, considering what he did. However I couldn't hate Snow - he had allowed Cato and me both to live, which I could never be grateful enough for.

Shortly after, we had reappeared on the Caesar Flickerman interview show, where he decided to make is relive the whole experience, much to the Capitol audience's enjoyment. After much failed complaining, we had been forcefully returned to our stylists and prep team. God, I hated them. My stylist Romairo had put me in a floor-length, V-necked dress with a split in the leg up to my thigh. There were silver diamantes embellished around the neckline and shoulders to 'add emphasis' to my over made-up face. Was I happy? I think not. Cato had gotten away with a simple grey suit and white shirt.

"So, Clove," Caesar, with his blinding blue hair and white teeth, had said, "what exactly was your initial reaction when it was announced that two tributes from the same District could win?"

I bit down on any rude comments that were thrashing to escape, instead smiling and speaking polite words through stiff lips.

"Well, it was the best thing that could have happened really. From then on, I knew we'd win." I flipped my long, dark, curled hair over one shoulder to emphasise my confidence.

Caesar had chucked animatedly, moving from me to Cato.

"And did you always share your District partner's confidence?"

"Of course," Cato smirked. Unlike me, he had no problem charming the Capitol crowds. "I mean, come on – we're from District 2. And when it got the final four – well, I knew we'd never lose to District 12," he laughed and Caesar joined in. I realised that sitting, emotionless as I was would make me look like an idiot so I forced a smile on to my face. I always ended up like this when I was forced in front of Capitol audiences. There was something about them that just never failed to infuriate me.

"Now," Caesar had declared, returning the attention to me, "Clove, you put a knife in Katniss Everdeen, the last tribute to die, to prevent her from being torn apart by ravenous animals. Can you tell us why?"

_Damn_. I knew those ridiculous actions would come back to haunt me – it turned out to be sooner than I'd feared. A hushed silence fell upon the crowd in anticipation of my next words. I refused to look weak, not now after I'd finally earned myself a fearsome reputation.

"I don't know," I shrugged genuinely – I _didn't _know why on earth I had done that. I thought back to what she'd done to Cato, attacking him how she had. "She didn't deserve a dignified death. If I could go back and do it again, I would let her die the way she should have."

"Would you say it was a moment's weakness?" he prodded.

My head snapped towards him at the word 'weak'. How dare he? I was _not_ weak. Rage flashed behind my eyes.

"No," I stated, angrily, attempting to think of an excuse for my stupid actions. "I had lost a lot of blood. I wasn't thinking straight."

"I see," Caesar had replied, making it clear that he didn't believe me. "And Cato, do you agree with Clove that Miss Everdeen deserved no mercy? That it was a mistake to end her pain?"

"Absolutely," Cato had practically growled and I couldn't help the smile that flickered past my lips. Even if everything else turned to crap, I knew I'd always have Cato to support every word I said. For some reason, he never left my side when I needed him.

"Well no wonder they made such a good team!" Caesar exclaimed, addressing the audience who cheered wildly in response.

After some more pointless questions, the interview had ended and we had been allowed to escape to the train once more, finally on our way back to District 2.

I had had vivid nightmares that night for the first time since my parents had died, which was absolutely mortifying, but Cato had come into my room and soothed me back to reality. His presence and warmth had been so comforting, so reassuring, so _real_, so I'd asked him to spend the night…

The next day we had returned home – at last. Every single person that I'd walked past had cheered and congratulated me and I couldn't help but bask in the glory of it all. Since Cato and I were both orphans with no families to provide for, we'd requested one house in the Victor's Village, rather than two, to prevent us from getting… lonely. So we were provided with a huge, well-made house to share, which was pretty perfect, to be honest.

After a day or two, the congratulations had died down and were replaced by shifty eyes and looks of apprehension. I continued to walk around District 2 with my signature, deathly scowl, which maintained its fearsome effect, if not increased it. If people believed that just because I had revealed a glimpse of my true self in the Hunger Games whilst being around Cato that I had turned soft and forgiving, then they were very much mistaken. If anything, I was tougher. And people soon learnt this as I stared down anyone who stood in my way, not that there were many.

When Cato and I had returned to the Training Centre a couple of days later, where we had been going since we were infants in order to prepare ourselves for the games, the reaction to our presence had been beyond satisfying. Every single person training there cowered away and looked at the floor when we were within a twenty meter radius, the younger ones physically shaking in fear.

Brutus, my trainer of nine years and victor of the 52nd Hunger Games, just smirked when he saw me return to the centre.

"I told everyone we'd be seeing you again. I've seen you in training," he grinned and I couldn't help but join in. He may be harsh and brutal but Brutus was like a father-figure to me. He had helped me get to the fighting level that I now was, effectively he had helped me win the games.

"Thanks," I drawled, rolling my eyes, "and I suppose I owe you some gratitude for all the training and stuff."

"Careful, Clove. Don't want people to think you've gone soft."

I scowled and shot him a death-stare.

"That's my girl," Brutus said smiling slyly.

Oh, the fun we had.

Cato and I had continued to stroll around the centre, feeling more powerful than ever before. Since we had nothing to train for anymore, we didn't actually _have_ to be there but we had always enjoyed a quick practice; Cato with his sword, me with my knives. It felt good.

Later that week, we had been approached by the person who ran the Training Centre and asked to help run classes along with the other victors Brutus, Enobaria and Lyme. After all, we were victors too now. I had been appointed a bunch of twelve year olds wanting to get better with knives. Well, I was always up for a challenge.

Cato was around the age when he had been about to start working as a mason, building houses along with the majority of the other men in District 2. However, since becoming a victor, he was no longer expected to. Besides, training children at the centre counted as a job, for both of us.

And when we weren't doing that we were at home… in our house.

"I still can't believe I live with you," I laughed to Cato one night as we sat in our living room together. I had never really been close to anyone besides Cato after my parents' death and allowing myself to become so dependant on someone… it scared me. But I also quite liked it. Was that wrong? (My brain told me yes).

"Why not?" Cato replied, feigning being insulted.

"I don't know," I murmured.

"Yes you do. And so do I. It's because you're afraid of commitment and never thought you'd be this close to anyone."

I exhaled angrily. Though why I was angry I didn't know – it's not like he didn't know all this stuff about me already, he'd just never said it aloud. Just like the way hat I knew behind his rock-hard armour was a sensitive, sweet, caring guy that he let no one see (me being the exception) because he thought it made him weak. The way that I knew the habit of running his hand through his hair had developed as a reflex to stop himself reaching for a weapon in his struggle to control his temper. The way that when he sometimes stared off into the distance in the middle of training, I knew that he was thinking about his parents who left him to become peacekeepers or his brother who had died in the games. All things that he knew that I knew about him even though we'd never directly spoken about them. We'd always been scared to allow ourselves to become too dependant on one another just in case the odds were not in our favor in the year that we entered the games. We'd both had too much loss and desperation for that.

I pushed those thoughts away, growling at Cato. Just because I knew him inside out didn't give him permission to know me so well.

"Have I ever told you how cute you are when you're mad?" Cato asked me, irritatingly.

"No, because if you did you know I would not be responsible for my actions."

When I looked up to meet his eyes, we both burst out into simultaneous laughter. I moved over to the couch where he was seated and allowed myself to relax against him as I had been doing routinely – he was the only thing that could protect me from my own brutal imagination. If anyone from the training centre, or the whole of Panem for that matter, could see me when I was around Cato, being care-free and, well, normal, I was sure they'd be seeing a completely different person. There was just something about Cato that allowed me to be the person that I truly was; not the bitter remorseless, ruthless killer that the rest of the world was used to. If they could see me – I'd be a laughing stock, without a doubt. And with all the attention suddenly on Cato and me, we couldn't afford to slip up and endanger the merciless, fearsome reputations that we'd earned. With the Capitol changing everything about me, my reputation was all I had left.

Cato must have felt me suddenly go stiff in his arms because I sensed his eyes boring into the side of my head.

"What's wrong?" he asked. I remained silent for a second, long enough for him to continue.

"Don't tell me you've changed your mind about us now," he jokes, a laugh in his tone but when I looked up into his eyes, I saw that they were hurt and worried.

"Ha-ha," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Seriously, Clove. Talk to me."

I sighed.

"I just thought that everything was supposed to get better once we won the games. We've been training for it for so long… I just thought it would feel different, that's all."

As I listened to myself I realized how ungrateful and pitiful I sounded and immediately regretted my words.

"Look, just forget I said anything," I huffed, irritated that I had let Cato worm the truth out of me, as usual. Why did I act so pathetic around him?

"_Clove_," he almost snarled my name. "Don't shut me out. What was the point of us both winning, of us coming home if you're going to act like you're alone in this?"

I couldn't think of anything to say which only seemed to make him angrier.

"Maybe we should have let Katniss win. Maybe she deserved it more."

I gaped openly as his ludicrous words, absolutely furious.

"_What?_" I practically screamed. "Don't tell me you actually believe that! That stupid, worthless bi-"

"Of course I don't!" he cut me off. "I was just trying to get some sort of reaction out of you."

"Yeah, well you better not," I scowled, recovering from my fit of anger. The games had seemed to make my temper worse than ever.

Cato didn't say anything for a while, he seemed to be thinking. I listened to the steady beat of his heart and felt his chest rise and fall next to me. It was somewhat calming.

"If you don't talk about what's going on in your head, you're going to go crazy."

I would usually have supplied a witty comeback to a comment like that about how Cato said I was crazy anyway but my mouth refused to form the words. I just wasn't in the mood, the old me that everyone was used to was slipping away.

"It doesn't make you look weak," he carried on, twisting my head to face him directly. Dammit, how did he know me so well? How did he know that those were the exact things that I'd been thinking? How had I allowed myself to become so close to him? "Come on, it's me. You know I'm not gonna judge you."

"Yes but that's the problem!" I cried.

"What?" He looked ridiculously puzzled.

I returned my voice to a normal tone, struggling to get a grip on my frustration.

"I guess it's like you said – I don't do commitment well." I refused to use the word 'afraid' to describe myself as Cato had. "I've never, ever opened up to anyone in my life. And now you want to talk about feelings and commitment and… I just don't know if I can."

"If you can commit?"

"If I can talk about it."

"Clove, talking about it doesn't change who you are-"

"But it does – don't you get it? The old me would never talk about how she was feeling to anyone and now I've got back from the games and it's like they're trying to change me, trying to get me to open up to everyone like a normal person would. I feel like… if I start changing who I am, they will have won. The Capitol will have succeeded in morphing my personality into something that they prefer. I don't want that Cato, I _can't_ have that."

At last, recognition settled on his features and he seemed to get what on earth I was going on about. That made one of us.

"I think I understand," he said slowly. "Doesn't mean I agree with it though."

"Yeah, I guessed as much," I sighed with a small smile, leaning against him even more. "Look, don't worry about it, it doesn't even ma-"

"Of course it matters. _You_ matter, Clove. How many times have I got to say that before you believe it?"

I shrugged acting non-caring but my insides flooded with warmth. There had been so few people in my life that had ever truly cared for me the way Cato did. It had been hard for me to accept at first but once I had finally got past the feeling that he was mocking me, I couldn't help but be flattered.

"Is that a blush I see, Miss Clove?" he teased.

"Shut up," I growled but my heart wasn't in it.

As I snuggled deeper into the warmth of Cato's arm, he suddenly sighed in an unusual way.

"What?" I wondered.

"This is so strange," he replied.

I immediately pulled back, hurt flashing across my face before I could stop it. _Get a grip_, I demanded, plastering a steely, emotionless expression on my face. The red heat building up beneath my skin kind of ruined it, though.

Cato rolled his eyes, grabbing me by the waist and dragging me back into his embrace.

"Jeez, when are you going to stop being so insecure? I wasn't talking about you – well, yeah I was. I just meant that it's so strange for us both to be here. We both made it out of the arena alive. I was starting to think it would never happen."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"I never doubted us."

Cato just glared at me.

"What about when it got down to just us two, then? What was your big plan?"

"We would have worked something out," I hedged, failing to mention how I would have sacrificed my life to save his. There was no need to look more pathetic than I already did.

"Sure," he huffed.

I felt a sudden mixture of emotions beginning to overwhelm me, which I had no desire to feel.

"Cato, can we please just stop talking about the games? I'm not trying to shut you out, I swear, I just don't want to think about it right now."

I felt his large, damage-capable hand gently caress the top of my head which, although ridiculous (how old did he think I was, eight?), was actually quite soothing.

"Of course. No more games."

_I wish_, I thought dreading the nightmares that would surely come. Just because I'd left the arena didn't mean that the arena had actually left me.

After a few moments silence, Cato leaned down so that his lips were practically against my ear but his voice was so soft that I barely even jumped.

"Are you ready to go to sleep?"

I had no idea what time it was but I was sure as hell tired out. But that seemed to be a permanent thing for me now.

I nodded, lazily pushing myself off the couch and ducking up the stairs before he tried to carry me, which I knew he would.

I soon reached my room which I wasn't completely comfortable in yet – it was still too unfamiliar. I slipped in quickly and crossed the room to where my bed was. When I turned around, Cato was standing warily in the doorway, as usual.

"You going to stay here tonight?" I asked unnecessarily.

"If you like."

"You know I do."

We had three bedrooms in our house in total. Cato and I had assigned one for each of ourselves and the other was spare. But I hadn't spent a single night alone since we'd owned the house – Cato was always too worried to leave me and to be honest, I was glad.

Cato took my hand and lead me to the bed where we blissfully slipped under the sheets and I was temporarily able to think of nothing to do with the Hunger Games, focusing entirely on Cato; his silky blonde hair, the smooth skin of his back, the way his lips melted against mine when they eventually met. Despite all the horrors from the arena, all the uneasiness that I'd felt since returning home, I realized that I now had something to live for. And no matter what the Capitol or anyone else said, I wasn't letting Cato go any time soon.

That was a promise.

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	3. The Tour

**A/N: Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, it means so much, and all the favouriters and followers as well :) Hope you like chapter 3!**

My life had found a new routine: wake up with Cato, go throw my knives in front of a load of kids who just stared, open-mouthed, meet about thirty new people each day who wanted to congratulate me still and then go to sleep (also with Cato). It was… pretty boring, actually. It felt like training to become a fighter since I was just a child, had all been a big waste. Okay, so I'd won the games. Now what?

Time passed, as it always does. It was much harder to adjust to my new life than I'd ever imagined it would be. But after a while of this tiresome lifestyle, there was actually an event happening to give me something to do. I wouldn't say I was _excited_ for the Victory Tour, don't be ridiculous, but it brightened up my week, I suppose.

"I thought you'd hate this stupid Victory Tour," Cato said to me the night before we were due to leave for District 12.

"I do."

"No you don't. You've been in a good mood all week. It's worrying when you're happy – it makes me nervous."

"Will you shut _up_," I hissed, shoving him.

"That's more like it," he smirked, causing me to scowl even more.

The next morning I'd woken up later than usual to find the space in my bed empty. Huh. I guessed Cato had finally grown tired of me. As I slowly sat up, I had to clap my hands over my mouth to hold in the scream.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed. There were people. People _in my bedroom_. But not just any people-

"Garia? Lunarus?" I asked, dizzily sitting up before realising that of course my prep team would be here to help me get ready for the Tour. Damn, I'd completely forgotten about their existence.

"Time to wake up, sleepy!" Garia cooed in her irritating accent. The golden tinge to her skin seemed to have darkened, most likely due to the changing Capitol trends. It was the first time I'd seen Lunarus and Garia, my infuriating prep team, since we'd won the games, not so long ago. It wasn't what I'd call a 'happy' reunion.

"Get out!" I snapped furiously. "You can't just come into my house like this, without permission!" I mean, who did they think they were? I was a victor now. Surely that earned me some respect?

Garia's perfectly groomed eyebrows rose at my words.

"You think we would come into your house without permission?"

"Absolutely," I qualified in a clipped tone, crossing my arms across my chest and starring her down.

"Well of _course _we have permission, silly! The gorgeous blonde let us in."

My eyes narrowed, focusing in on the word 'gorgeous'.

"Cato?"

"Who else?" she answered, laughing like an idiot. She elbowed Lunarus in the side, winking. "I might have to get me some of that-"

"Look, lady," I snarled, cutting her off, "if you're not out of my room in 5 seconds, I swear I will have no trouble finding a knife and shoving it into your heart."

_Why are you letting them get to you? I thought you were past all this._

"Feisty, I like it," Cato smirked, glancing through my open door as he strolled down the hallway. I jumped out of bed, running after him and grabbed the back collar of his shirt, yanking on it hard enough to make him stop.

"Jeez, it was just a joke-"

"What is going on?" I demanded in ire.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't play dumb, Cato!" I yelled, not caring who heard. "I wake up and you're gone and my very own Capitol freaks are there to greet me."

"Look," he laughed, "when the prep team come knocking, you let them in. They showed up to sort us out for the Victory Tour and that's what they're going to do. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay! You might have warned me," I scowled.

"But then I would have missed the priceless expression on your face right now," he grinned.

I shoved him hard with a fierce growl before walking off down the hall, back to my room. Moron.

Garia and Lunarus were stood in the centre of the room, looking terrified and unsure of what to do.

"Look, honey, I'm afraid we can't leave without-"

"Just do what you have to do and do it quick," I hissed, sitting down on a stool and holding my hands out. Garia nodded, taking a seat opposite me and beginning to work on my nails while Lunarus took my hair.

They were done in just over thirty minutes, thank God. My nails had been shaped, cleaned and glossed and Lunarus had styled my long, dark hair into a maze of complicated knots and twists that amounted to a bun at the crown of my head. Then Romairo, my stylists, swept in dramatically, clicking my fingers in order for Lunarus and Garia to leave. Why couldn't I do that?

"Clove," he smiled politely, turning to face me, "good to see you."

I sighed and rolled my eyes – Capitol formalities really were irritating.

"Yeah, yeah, let's cut the crap. What am I wearing?"

Romairo chuckled lightly, leading me to the bed where he placed down a plastic bag filled with various fabrics. He fished out a few items and laid them out for me to look at. A pair of plain black pants that looked plain but probably cost a fortune. The top was a gold vest-style T-shirt with teeny tiny little knives embroidered around the hem. Nice touch; I couldn't help but smirk. Then there was a khaki, long-sleeved silk jacket and a pair of satin pumps.

"Wow, Romairo, this outfit seems almost normal."

He just laughed.

"Yes, I noticed how the other designs… displeased you. Besides, the Victory Tour outfits are supposed to be more casual. More… you."

"Well… okay. Good. Thanks."

Romairo grinned. "I think that's the first time you've ever said 'thanks' for an outfit I've designed for you."

I frowned – he was right.

"Just get out so I can change," I huffed.

Romairo did as I said, smiling the whole way.

I quickly changed and ducked out the door spying Cato dressed in similar attire to me; black pants, plain gray V-necked T-shirt and a navy jacket to protect against the dropping temperatures outside. I was still mad at him for mocking me earlier, though.

"Nice outfit," I sneered in the rudest voice I could manage. Which, I have to admit, was pretty badass.

"Ditto," Cato shot back, tugging on the zip of my jacket. "Gotta say, I preferred your interview dress, though. In this you're all… covered up."

He winked as I stood gaping. Was Cato _flirting_ with me? While I was _mad_ at him? I felt my face reddening despite my internal protests for it to _stop. _How was that rational, anyway? It wasn't like Cato's flirting would ever work on me.

After the shock had passed, which only took a second or two, I was just opening my mouth to snap an infuriated remark back at Cato and his maddening smug, smirk when I was cut off by Crissina, Cato's own stylist.

"A word, Cato?" she called.

Cato glanced at me, a huge grin on his face before lolloping off like the idiot that he was. I suddenly noticed that my mouth was still open and had been for the whole time, so quickly snapped it shut in anger. I would _not _be made a fool of. Not be Cato, of all people.

After a couple of minutes of standing in the position that Cato had left me in, fuming, I heard the front door open and close on the floor below me and could only assume it was someone entering or leaving. Out of nowhere, Rondula, the District 2 supervisor, appeared in her golden glory. I guessed that the colour gold was very much in fashion in the Capitol at that time as I was seeing it everywhere. Rondula's shoulder-length, ruler straight wig was the colour of sunshine with yellow highlights, her mini-dress, with overstuffed shoulders and tutu-esque skirt, was glimmering bronze and her ten inch heels were gold and reflective, too. Even her sheet white, powdered face had gold highlights – here eyes and lips emphasised by the orange tone.

"Come on, come on, what are we waiting for?" she exclaimed in her high-pitched, over-excited Capitol accent that I had grown to hate so much.

"Waiting for all this to end," I muttered, reluctantly trailing behind Rondula's gold puffy skirt. Spending time around Capitol citizens was physically draining. I longed to be in the familiar embrace of my district partner, despite how he was annoyed me that morning. No such luck.

"Clove, come on!" Rondula snapped her fingers in front of my face. I sighed. _District 12, here I come._

After the nauseating car ride that I was sure I'd never get used to, we had arrived at the station and boarded the train, heading for District 12. The journey hadn't been too long; I had spent the majority of it sat in an overstuffed armchair with Rondula, listening to her drone on and on about her Capitol problems. Enobaria, our mentor from the games, had also come along and had spoken a few words of advice to me, concerning what to say on stage. I had barely seen Cato or any of the stylists but that suited me fine – sitting and watching the world fly by in a blur was oddly comforting.

After not too long, we arrived in the poorest district of Panem – the one furthest away from my own. When we stepped off the train into the crisp afternoon air, I had to fight to keep my mouth shut. Distrcict 12 was like nothing I'd ever seen before. The filthy roads and buildings were surrounded by people who looked unfed, wasting-away and downright dirty. There were homeless people strewn around street corners and the houses were more like shacks. Another thing that struck me was that there was no colour, none at all. Every surface was covered in grime from the coal mines and all the clothes that people wore were tatty and old-looking in brown and black tones. It took me a second to understand why there was a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach. Oh. This was the district of Katniss and Peeta who we'd murdered in the games. And now we had to face their mourning families, tell them how proud we were to be victors. This was one of the first times that the cool, calm, non-caring expression on my face felt slightly forced. _Damn it, stop being so weak! You've killed loads of people before, why dwell on two worthless, failed tributes?_ Maybe because I could relate to them in such a way that it pained me. I remembered how Katniss had been so easy to kill once Peeta had died; it was almost as if she'd given up. It wasn't just because of the fact that she was one man down and the fight was two against one, it was because Peeta had died and she'd had no time to recover from it, forced to fight seconds after. I tried to put myself in the same position, watching Cato killed in front of my eyes and having to fight for my life without a second to mourn him. I wanted to think that I would have been fine, that I would have been able to kill them but I knew that was a lie. There was no way.

Maybe one other reason I felt slightly more remorse towards Katniss was that, besides Cato, she may have been one of the only people in the arena with a skill set almost close to mine. She was a hunter, so was I. I wouldn't say we were exactly evenly matched but something like that.

As we were ushered into the Justice Building, I caught sight of Cato's faraway expression and guessed that he was thinking the same thing. I wondered if he would have been able to fight if I had been the one to die. Probably. Cato's mind seemed able to block out irrelevant thoughts when he was fighting. I hated the way that thought made my heart itch a little. I knew I should be able to do the same.

After much fussing, we were shoved on to the stage where Rondula and Mayor Undersee, the mayor of District 12, were standing, waiting. The whole of the district, which was very few people compared to District 2, were stood looking solemn and unhappy. Usually there would be some sort of reaction from the crowd, a quiet cheer to at least a half-hearted round of applause, but the residents of twelve just stood, starring at us. I couldn't bring myself to get angry about it, though, no matter how hard I wanted to.

Amongst the crowds, I spotted a small twelve or thirteen year old looking girl with long golden blonde hair braided down her shoulders. She reminded me of Katniss, unsettlingly so, then I remembered seeing her on the reaping repeats on television – Katniss had volunteered for her sister. So, this must be her.

The mayor produced a short speech and introduced Cato and I. We then stepped up to the front of the stage upon hearing out names and I placed my trademark, over-used, intimidating smirk on to face automatically. I didn't especially feel like smiling but here there were cameras on us and I had to maintain my stony, confident reputation. Before I'd even had a chance to say anything, a scuffle and deep growl alerted my attention from the sidelines of the small crowd in front of us. I looked up to see a tall olive-skinned, dark haired boy about eighteen years old who looked like he could also be related to Katniss. But then again, most people in District 12 looked very similar so it was hard to tell. He was being restrained by a tall man, obviously a District 12 resident who was trying to calm him down before the peacekeepers got involved. The boy's eyes were fixed on my lazy smirk.

"Just stop," the older man hissed, just loud enough for me to hear. "She's not worth it, Gale!"

_She's _not worth it? So he wanted to attack me? Big surprise there. I had no idea who this Gale boy was but I tried to put myself in his shoes. If someone had killed Cato in the games and was smiling like the happiest person in the world in front of my District, would _I _want to lunge for them? _Absolutely_.

I immediately wiped the smile off my face and looked down. Cato took it as a cue to speak.

"Despite what you may think," he began, "we respected Peeta and Katniss. But at the end of the day we were in the Hunger Games together – people were always going to die. If you can't respect our decisions, at least try to understand it. We're sorry for those who have lost."

I knew that I had to say something but couldn't think of a single word. The audience's gaze shifted to me after it became apparent that Cato had finished.

"Peeta was strong. Clever. Katniss was a good hunter. Well, better than good."

I spoke the words without consciously meaning to and was immediately furious with myself for slipping up and exposing the thoughts bubbling beneath my confident armour.

I hastily snapped my mouth shut and kept it that way. Rondula took over the microphone and the rest was a blur of speeches and handshakes. Eventually, we were loaded back onto the train and heading for Dictrict 11.

I headed for my room immediately, slamming the door and collapsing down onto my bed. _Dammit!_ Why had I been so _stupid_? I reached for my knives from the bag on the floor, ripped one out at random and flung it at my door in rage. It sunk into the wood with an echoing thud.

"What's going on in there?!" Rondula all but shrieked. "You'd better not have ruined any furniture!"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her. Then I began to hear other voices outside the door, some Capitol-worthy annoying and a deeper one.

"Just go, I'll deal with it," Cato sighed.

"No! She must be dealt with properly-"

"I said _go_," he cut Rondula off.

She marched away after a rattled huff and I was left listening to Cato's deep breaths behind the door.

"Clove, let me in."

I growled, sending another knife plunging into the door. I heard Cato's sharp intake of breath; not quite a gasp but close.

"Come on. Just relax."

"Relax?" I hissed, probably inaudible to him.

There was a couple of seconds silence whilst I waited for Cato to go away. I really just wanted to be alone.

With one exasperated sigh, I heard Cato grunt and his breathing became strained.

I remained where I was, honestly unsure of what to do.

Suddenly, a loud crack shocked me enough that I flinched nearly threw the knife I was holding. Cato burst through the door as I stood, now fully alert and very much concerned, with my mouth hanging wide open.

"Wha-" I tried to get my thoughts to form coherent words. "You just broke the lock off my door," I stated.

"Yes."

Our eyes met and after a second of stunned silence, Cato and I both found ourselves dissolving into slightly hysterical laughter. He took a giant step forwards, engulfing me in the warmth of his arms.

"I can't believe you did that," I giggled, breathing in his familiar musky scent that reminded me of District 2 so much. Seeing the misery of District 12 had made me miss it somewhat.

"Well you already ruined it with all your knife throwing madness."

I smiled against his shoulder, looking up so that our eyes met once more.

"Sorry," I replied, feigning remorse and pouting like a child.

"You're forgiven," he chuckled, releasing me and leading me over to sit on the bed next to us. "So, you wanna explain to me what's going on in your head?"

I took a deep breath.

"I just can't believe I said that."

Cato rolled his eyes.

"Stop overreacting. You said nothing wrong."

"Sure I didn't," I replied sarcastically. "I made myself look like an idiot! Who's going to be scared of me now? I just said that I _respected _District 12."

"Is having people scared of you really what's important here?"

"Yes!"

Cato pursed his lips.

"You understand, right?" I asked him desperately.

"I do, of course I do. It's just that we don't have to think like that anymore, Clove. We won the games. People already ready respect us without us trying to make them even more intimidated."

"I can't think that way Cato, I just can't. Intimidation is the only thing I've ever known. The only thing I've ever been good at."

My fingers trembled slightly; I was on the verge of losing it. It took all my willpower not to reach for a knife. I took a couple of deep breaths, gripping the bed sheets beneath me to settle my hands.

"You know that's not true," Cato breathed, his voice suddenly very close to me.

I looked up to see his face next to mine and our lips were practically touching. It had all the intimacy of a kiss but... wasn't somehow.

"Clove, it's _not true_," he whispered against my mouth as our lips remained in contact but not really moving.

"Just don't," I mouthed. I really didn't want to talk about all my problems at that moment. What I needed was a distraction.

"Look-"

I cut him off by biting down on his bottom lip. I heard a low growl building in his throat and my body reacted before my body could even process what I was doing. I grabbed him and pulled us both backwards into the depths of the sheets.

My last coherent thought was Cato breathing my name.

We arrived in District 11 the next morning. This was the District of Thresh and the small girl who'd been allied with Katniss. Rue, I think her name was. I was pretty sure I hadn't killed her so I felt little remorse. The ceremony was similar to that of the day before, though I was luckily able to hold my tongue and didn't say anything stupid, only speaking when necessary. I liked to think that I maintained my stony composure, though I can't be sure.

Cato ended up in my room again… despite Rondula's protests and grumbles about being 'impolite'. And so that became our routine – travel to the next District, present ourselves to the mourning families, end the day back on the train. We had to sit through a Capitol meal every evening which wasn't so bad food-wise, but the company was enough to drive me insane.

Cato, like me, said that he couldn't appreciate the fancy surroundings though, because it reminded him of out journey to the games not so long ago… and that's where our conversations about it usually ended. We weren't quite ready to go there yet.

So we were eventually done with all the Districts through to 1 where our allies Glimmer and Marvel had come from. I can't say that I felt anything special about seeing their families. Just because we had to work together in the arena didn't mean I actually had ay respect for them.

Once we finished up there it was Capitol, here we come.

_Joy._

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	4. The Capitol

**A/N: Thank you soo much to everyone who has reviewed or followed or favourited so far, it means so much. So, this chapter got a little longer than anticipated haha but I really hope you like it :)**

When my eyes fluttered open the next morning, the first thing I noticed was Cato's face just inches from mine, peaceful in unconsciousness. They say that people look younger in sleep and I could only agree – looking at Cato the way he was, he could have been the innocent, young boy that I had met all those years ago at the training centre. The boy who'd teased me about my size and lack of skills until I'd sent a knife flying in his direction, missing his head by just millimetres. He'd never teased me again. I felt a smile blossoming on my lips at the memory, though it soon faded. Cato was nothing like that boy now – all the innocence ripped away from him by the cruel games that we had been forced to face. Scars ran through him inside and out and his caring, loving side was almost always hidden from the world that surrounded us.

"You're starring at me, it's weird," Cato murmured without moving.

I jumped slightly at his sudden, unexpected stirring. He must have sensed my shock because his eyes opened a second later and he was grinning.

"I wasn't starring," I insisted, glaring at him.

"Sure," he replied, rolling his eyes. "So, we're gonna be in the Capitol soon."

It was the first time we'd been back to the Capitol since our victory in the games and I couldn't say I was looking forward to it. Still, I didn't really feel like admitting that.

"So?"

Cato sighed at my stubbornness.

"_So_… how do you feel about it?"

I shrugged - which was pretty hard considering that I was lying down – pretending it was nothing. To be honest, it _was_ nothing.

"How about you?" I shot back.

"I don't know," he answered, looking thoughtful. "Ready, I guess. To show them… to show them that we won. How we survived. You know?"

It was funny because I _did _know. It was like there was a need deep within me to prove to everyone that I could face the Hunger Games and be unaffected. I wanted the Capitol to know that we had beaten them. Or at least not died pathetically at their hands like so many others. The only problem was that they _had_ won, whether Cato and I were ready to admit that or not. We may have survived but our lives would never be the same. I would never be able to sleep well at night, be alone in a dark room. I didn't think I'd ever be able to actually smile with meaning again, besides when I was with Cato. The Games had changed my perspective on life so dramatically and I didn't know how to change it back. Killing had always been a second nature to me, something to enjoy, but now that I didn't have to, the question was did I _want _to? Had I only enjoyed killing people all these years because I'd been told I _had_ to do it? I didn't know anymore. All I knew was that I no longer automatically reached for a weapon when I was mad. What was the point? What was the point in inflicting pain on others just to deal with my own?

I just nodded, contemplating his words. This was going to be the biggest act of all that we had to put on. We had to show everyone that we hadn't been changed. That we were strong, worthy victors.

"Hey," Cato said snapping his fingers in front of my face, forcing my attention back to him. "Don't think about it."

"Don't think about it?" I repeated in disbelief. "How can I? We're almost-"

My words were suddenly cut off my Cato's lips pressing against mine hungrily. I felt the slight pressure of his teeth biting into me and my breathing was suddenly coming heavier and faster.

"I said, don't think about it," he whispered into my mouth.

"Okay," I mouthed, unable to think of anything else to say.

All at once the kiss intensified and the hot, burning passion inside of me, that only Cato could control, sparked to life. I twisted one hand through Cato's matted blonde hair, yanking him towards me, whilst the other clawed at his back in my desperate bid for his closeness. It was moments like this that stopped be from getting lost in the guilt-ridden, horror-filled abyss that had existed in my mind ever since the games. Sometimes I just needed to feel… human. Cato caressed my hair, my waist, the small of my back… he was more gentle than anyone could ever imagine yet so wild and rough at the same time. Being able to be like this with Cato made going through the games all worthwhile. I kicked my leg free of the covers and hitched it around his waist, wrapping myself closer.

Just as things were about to get interesting, Rondula's shrill, Capitol voice made me jump and flinch away from Cato as if we were naughty children being caught doing something we shouldn't. Which, I guess we were.

"Up, up, up everyone! We're here!"

Cato cursed under his breath.

"Maybe if we ignore her she'll go away," I whispered.

He laughed lightly.

"Hmm, something tells me that won't work."

I pouted at him before slowly running one hand over his chest and starring up from under my lashes.

Cato groaned slightly.

"If you carry on looking at me like that, we're never leaving this room."

I giggled quietly and we were about to take off from where we had been when Rondula's frantic knocking and cried interrupted us _again_.

"Get up _now_! Cato, I know you're in there! And Clove, you know Cato isn't supposed to be in your room!"

Cato and I just smirked at each other, finally leaving the bed after another couple of minutes. Cato retrieved his shirt from the floor whilst I donned the outfit that I'd been wearing the night before; a pair of black pants and a navy shirt.

It was finally hitting me just how much I was dreading returning to the Capitol. But, hey, nothing I could do now.

"You okay?" Cato asked as we were about to exit the room.

"Fine."

I marched past him and through the door, attempting to look confident and fearless. It was a look that I'd perfected somewhat over the years. I was pretty sure I'd succeeded until I saw Rondula's white powered face which, quite frankly, scared the hell out of me.

She stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for God knows what.

"Yes?" I asked finally – she was blocking my way.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourselves? What have I told you about-"

"Manners and setting an example, yes, yes, we _know_," Cato interrupted, losing his patience every bit as much as me.

Why were the Capitol citizens so up in your face? What made them better than Cato and I?

"Look, just move. We're getting breakfast if you feel like coming," I snapped, shoving past Rondula with Cato trailing behind me.

"Nice," Cato smirked as soon as she was out of earshot, "I was starting to think you'd lost your _grr_."

I spun around and slammed him against the wall behind us, pressing one fist against his throat. I wasn't entirely sure why I'd reacted like I had. Blame it on the pre-interview jitters or something.

"What was that?" I snarled.

"Woah, easy," Cato put his hands up in mock surrender. "Absolutely nothing."

I could tell that he wanted to laugh but was probably scared of what I might do to him so I released the pressure of my death-grip and turned to continue the way we'd been going before, rolling my eyes. The second I turned my back, I heard Cato move quickly but was too slow to react in time. In a second, he had me pressed up against the train wall as I had just had him, except with my back to him and my front flatted out against the solid surface. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was plain white wall, just millimetres away. I tried to move but Cato had my arms locked in his vice-like hold from behind. I grunted, attempting to push off the wall once more and failing again.

"You didn't think I was going to let you beat me that easily, did you?" he mocked in my ear. I snarled viciously. This was _not on._

Without warning, I sharply kicked my leg up, hitting Cato where it hurt – and _hard_ – whilst simultaneously biting down on his hand nearest to me. Enobaria would be so proud.

Cato hissed in pain and faltered for a second, just long enough for me to floor him as I had done so many times before in training. On his way down, though, Cato managed to capture my ankles and knock me down with him. I collapsed above him with a yelp, though quickly recovered myself and placed my hands on his shoulders so that we were looking each other directly in the eye.

"Don't underestimate me," I breathed in his face. Suddenly Cato rocked underneath me.

"Hey!" I yelled as he flipped himself over so that I was no on the bottom of him. He grinned down at me.

"Don't underestimate _me_," he murmured, lowering his lips so that they were brushing against mine.

An unexpected piercing screech out of nowhere caused me to wince. I looked up from under Cato's broad frame to see none other than Rondula towering over us in all her Capitol glory.

"What are you _doing_? Do you _want_ to be late?" she squealed, over-excited as ever. "Do you know how much these outfits are worth? We don't have time for this idiocy! Thank _God _you haven't had your hair and make-up done yet…"

"Oh chill out, Cruella," Cato sighed as both got to our feet.

"Ex_cuse me_?" Rondula gaped in response.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, grabbing Cato's arm and dragging him along with me to the dining area. That was enough trouble for one morning.

"Clove, honey," Rondula spoke following behind us, having recovered from her fit of anger, "do be sure to return to your room as quickly as possible. We're running slightly behind schedule so you'll have to get ready on the train, rather than in your training quarters. Anyway, don't leave Garia and Lunarus waiting – your hair and make-up could take some time."

I paused to shoot her a death glare, which of course the ignorant woman completely missed, whilst Cato chuckled at me. I shifted my gaze to him, my scowl menacing though I was unable to remove the joking edge from my eyes.

As we arrived at the table, Cato bowed and pulled my chair out for me in an over-exaggerated gentlemanly gesture. I snorted, accepting the seat as he collapsed opposite me.

Rondula placed herself to my right and unsubtly darted looks between Cato and I. Probably trying to figure us out. I mean, one second she finds us bed together, the next we're attacking one another in the hallway. I supposed it was fair enough for her to be confused – I knew I was. Cato and I were… complicated. I honestly couldn't think of another word to describe it.

After our, admittedly delicious, breakfast, I was ushered off to my room once more for my Capitol-approved make-over.

I was able to zone out and respond accordingly to their high-pitched coos of delight.

"Ooh, isn't it exciting going back to the Capitol?" and "you're so lucky you're going to be a mentor in the quarter quell!".

A short while later, I was presented with my reflection in the mirror, much to my annoyance. I never particularly liked what my stylists did to me; today my hair had been left to flow down my shoulders in long, silky raven waves whilst my eye make-up was smoky and dramatic. All in all, not the _worst_ Capitol make-over.

I had no idea what Cato had been doing in the mean time but I could only guess that it had been what he _wanted_ to do. I couldn't help but envy his escape from the wild Capitol creatures that I'd been bombarded with.

Eventually, I managed to escape Garia and Lunarus after their seemingly endless squeals and coos of delight, stumbling out of my room and into the dining area once more. Of course Cato was there stuffing his face, the pig. I rolled my eyes as I entered the room without Cato even noticing my presence.

"Ahem," I cleared my throat pointedly and tried to hide the smug smile when he finally did acknowledge me. His eyes widened slightly and a slow smile spread across his face as he looked over me. I struck a pose jokingly until his grin morphed into an amused laugh.

"Nice. You could almost pass as one of them."

_Them_ being the Capitol weirdo's that would soon be surrounding us.

"Hey!" I huffed, stepping forwards and punching him on the arm.

"Meant as a compliment, of course," he amended.

I sighed. "Of course."

Cato chuckled again as I took a seat next to him.

"I'm just joking, Clove. You look great."

I snorted with another eye roll.

"Wow, what a compliment."

"Last time I checked, it _was_ a compliment," he replied. "What else do you want me to say?"

I chose not to answer that. God, he could be so clueless sometimes.

"So anyway," I changed the subject, "when are we getting off this damn train?"

As Cato opened his mouth to reply, Rondula's abnormal, colourful hair appeared in the doorway, along with the rest of her.

"We don't have time to waste sitting around! Just time for your outfit changes and then it's on with the interviews! The whole of Panem is waiting!"

I couldn't help but sigh as she hustled me out the door and into a small room in the train that I'd never been in before, where a large, plastic-covered garment was thrust into my hands.

"Do _not_ tear it," were Rondula's final words before shoving the door shut in my face.

I winced as I slowly unzipped the bag, apprehensive about what Romairo had designed for my interview with Caesar. The smooth, silky material that spilled into my hands was ebony black and fairly simplistic. Upon further inspection, I discovered that it was short. Very short. The dress had a plunging neckline and pulled in tight around the waist before flowing out in waves, ending around mid-thigh. The entire ensemble was made of very fine, probably very expensive silk. And it was pretty, don't get me wrong, just not… me. Though I doubted anything that had been designed by the Capitol ever would be.

I felt the minor sensation of butterflies in my stomach which I hated. Why would I be nervous to wear a stupid dress? Because of what Panem would think of me? Or maybe just Cato…

Deciding that there was nothing to be done, I had no choice but to wear the damn thing, I laid the dress down in preparation to wear and hastily stripped off my itchy, day-old clothes. In that one second, the thick, wooden door that was separating me from the rest of the train, swung backwards into the cramped space that I was in, nearly hitting me in the face.

"Hey, I-" Cato began before taking in my appearance.

"Get _out_!" I screamed, slamming the door backwards with every ounce of force in my body.

_Oh my God, oh my God_, my mind chanted over and over. My hands, which had automatically flown to cover my body, were shaking slightly. For God's sake, what was the problem? Cato had seen me in less than this before… yet I couldn't stop freaking out.

I was interrupted by Cato's uncontrollable laughter from the other side of the door.

"I'm – I'm sorry," he forced out between his manic snorts. "I didn't know – you were getting changed."

I snarled, loud enough for him to hear, which shut him up.

"Go. _Away_," I hissed, infuriated.

After a second, I heard Cato's boots slowly clomp down the hallway, away from where I was.

I took a couple of gulps of air to calm my breathing before slipping on the minimal garment. I glanced in the mirror on my left. The dress fitted me perfectly and looked _good_, though maybe a little too good for my liking. I tore my eyes away from the dress for a second to look at the reflection of my face, which was still glowing red from Cato's embarrassing outburst. _Damn him_.

A second or two later, I exited the room, leaving my old clothes dumped in a pile on the floor. That's what Avox's were for, right?

I was greeted almost instantly by Rondula who clapped her hands excitedly.

"You look _gorgeous_!" she exclaimed happily, which, coming from her, concerned me.

"Thanks," I muttered, absently donning the silver pumps she handed to me.

"All set then?" she asked excitedly.

I nodded numbly. Was I? I'd faced the Capitol crowds before, what was so different now? _Come on, Clove. You've handled the arena and the gamemakers. You can handle one orange fool with blue hair._

"Cato!" Rondula suddenly screeched. "Damn it, where is that boy?" she murmured, scampering off to find him.

I took the second alone to smooth down my dress and fluff out my hair when Romairo appeared out of nowhere.

"Romairo."

"Clove," he smiled. "I see you found my latest creation for you."

I frowned slightly without meaning to.

"Yes. Interesting."

"You look amazing. Trust me, they'll love it."

"It's not them I'm worried about," I muttered.

Cato and Rondula burst back into the corridor at that point, slightly out of puff. Cato wore a black suit with a sky blue shirt. The second I met his eyes, an all-too familiar knowing smirk settled on his lips while I felt my face reddening again. _Damn, damn, damn._

Rondula raised her eyebrows but otherwise ignored us.

"Ready to go?"

"Absolutely," I replied before Cato could get the words out, determined to look under control no matter how I felt. Again with the eyebrow raising, Rondula lead us towards the exit of the train.

"Nice," Cato murmured, "but I prefer what I saw underneath."

I blushed furiously, much to my utter irritation. Did he have to be so loud? Rondula definitely heard but, again, didn't comment. I saw Romairo grin to himself before he disappeared with Crissina, Cato's stylist.

"Let's do this stupid interview," I growled, marching on.

Rondula took my hand and lead me across to the building where it would take place. We had to take a back entrance so none of the awaiting crowds could catch a glimpse of our outfits or _us_ for that matter. We were shoved into a small room and given five minutes before the interview was due to start.

"Look, I just have to check in with – oh, hello darling!" Rondula called to a Capitol minion in the distance. "Back in a bit, honey. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Then she dashed off in a swirl of powder and perfume.

There was a moments silence before I turned to Cato.

"You ready for this?" I demanded sounding fiercer than intended due to the sick feeling in my stomach. The more nervous I got, the angrier I became. Cato knew that.

"Of course. What could go wrong?"

"But we haven't even prepared any answers!" I exclaimed, beginning to tap my foot in impatience and anticipation. As usual Enobaria hadn't even bothered to show up to talk to us before the interviews. She really was the worst mentor. Lucky Cato and I didn't need anyone. Or that's what I had thought…

"We never did before," Cato reminded me.

"Yes but we'll be asked different questions this time. Questions about, you know, _us_."

"Then we just tell the truth."

_How can I tell the truth if I don't even understand it myself?_ I wanted to scream.

Instead, I just nodded, concentrating on my breathing. Cato lifted my chin so that our eyes met.

"Clove, you don't have to worry."

I snapped my head away from his grip.

"I'm not."

Cato sighed, knowing better than to argue with me at a time like this.

"Whatever. Just don't hate me for what I say out there."

I frowned.

"Why would I-"

Suddenly I was cut off by an eruption of screaming and applause as the show began and Caesar Flickerman entered the stage, grinning like a blue buffoon.

"Welcome!" he cried, addressing the crowd. I chewed on my lip as I waited for our cue.

"What are you going to do?" I hissed.

No answer.

"Cato!"

Cato chuckled with a shrug in response.

"Please welcome to the stage, this years Hunger Games champions – Cato and Clove from District 2!" Caesar roared, being drowned out by the whooping and applause.

Cato bowed, waving a hand out in front of him, gesturing for me to go first. I glowered at him before walking, hopefully gracefully, on to the stage. I pretended not to notice some of the male members of the audience's reaction to my dress and exposed flesh. I heard Cato following closely behind me being wolf-whistled at by practically every woman. _Now is not the time to get jealous, Clove. _When I sat down I made sure to keep my legs tightly pressed together in order to protect my own dignity.

"Clove, Cato, welcome back!" Caesar Flickerman gushed, kissing my hand and shaking Cato's as we took our seats. There was something about the Capitol audience's with their bright colours and loud voices and the gleaming lights of the studio that never failed to leave me in awe. It may have annoyed the hell out of me but the Capitol really was something, I'd give you that.

"So, how have you been?" Caesar began, crossing his legs and leaning towards us.

"We've been doing pretty well, I suppose," Cato answered. "Can't complain."

"Can't complain!" Caesar repeated with an exaggerated, shocked laugh. "Would you listen to this!" he exclaimed, addressing the audience.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you," Cato chuckled, continuing. "It's all been great. Clove and I actually got our own house together which has its, you know… _benefits_." He waggled his eyebrows around like a madman.

_What are you doing?_ I inwardly yelled at him. Of course on the outside I was smiling (though through tight lips).

"I _bet_ it does!" Caesar bellowed in excitement. The crowd exploded in cheers once more. My God, these people needed to calm down. "And Clove, how do you feel about these living arrangements?"

I forced a smile and bit back my anger, finally saying, "bearable," with just a hint of acid in my tone.

"I see," he grinned, moving on. "So, what have you been up to since the games?"

Before I could answer with something _sensible_, Cato plunged on like the idiot he was.

"Well, that would be telling. Besides, it's not something I'd feel comfortable discussing with the whole of Panem," he winked.

"Oh, really?" Caesar chuckled, turning to the audience. "Can you believe these two?"

"What can I say, Caesar? The games were a long time to be away from that sort of thing, if you know what I mean. Come on, I'm just a man."

"Indeed you are!" was the thundering reply as the room filled with booming laughter. _I'm going to kill him. _"No but seriously," Caesar continued, a lot hush settling upon the audience, "how would you say your lives have changed since becoming victors?"

I decided to take the lead on that question before Cato could embarrass us anymore.

"I think I speak on behalf of both of us when I say that it hasn't changed our lives too much. We have a nicer house, better skills and more enemies. Little else has been altered, to be honest."

"When you say 'more enemies', what exactly do you mean? Are more people… scared of you?"

"No more than were before," I smirked.

"I think what Clove meant by more enemies wasn't exactly people in our District., but those who knew the other tributes who died in the arena, whether we caused their deaths or not. I suppose they feel like we took the winning place that their son, their daughter could have been awarded. You know what I mean?"

"Of course, of course," Caesar replied solemnly. "I just don't know how someone deals with that."

"Please Caesar," I scoffed, "it's nothing."

"Your confidence is inspiring, Clove!" he grinned, easily perking up.

The interview continued to flow smoothly, me acting cool and sarcastic (not a hard act to keep up) while Cato dropped inappropriate remarks in whenever he could. I didn't know what was up with him but didn't even waste time thinking about it. If he wanted to embarrass himself in front of the whole of Panem, that was his choice. I tried to ignore the fact that he was embarrassing me along with him as best I could.

After a draining while, we finally said our final goodbyes to Caesar and left the stage, the Capitol crowds never faltering with their echoing cheers of delight.

The second that the stage doors shut behind us and the screams and hoots could no longer be heard, I turned on my heel and marched away from Cato, and anyone else for that matter, in the general direction of the training centre. For the short time that we were in the Capitol, we had been allowed to stay in our old training quarters. The penthouse style space allocated for District 2 was every bit as luxury and over-the-top as anything else in the Capitol. As I made my way down the winding corridors and through a set of double doors, I was presented with the familiar space. The last time that I'd been here had been in the nights leading up to the games. The nights where, despite my confident façade, I had doubted whether I'd ever see District 2 again. I shuffled along through the quarters until I reached my old, temporary bedroom where so many memories had been made. Flashbacks of Cato and I together in this room swirled around in my mind and overpowered my vision for a second before I forced them away, remembering that I was mad at Cato at that minute. I slammed the door shut behind me and ambled over to the huge closet in the far corner of the room. There were endless racks of Capitol approved outfits so I grabbed one, eager to remove the clingy dress that made me so self-conscious. I changed quickly as to avoid another incident similar to earlier that day. Although overly-elaborate and expensive, there was no denying that the plain navy pants and grey silky vest were comfortable and looked damn good.

Gingerly, I perched myself on the edge of the king-sized bed, taking in the familiar surroundings and inhaling the Capitol smells. It was so strange to be there in the exact same spot that I had spent strategizing by myself the night before the games. I was dreading nothing, though, preparing for nothing this time around. Which, despite sometimes bugging me, was oddly peaceful and comforting. Maybe this time I could actually appreciate the cosy bed and incredible food without having game plans and alliances playing on my mind constantly.

My thoughts and reminiscing were suddenly interrupted by a soft knock on my door. _Cato_. Damn it.

"This had better be good," I snapped before pulling the door open, aggressive words already forming on my mouth. I stopped short and did a double take, taking in the figure in the doorway. "Enobaria?" I asked in surprise. "What do you want?"

Enobaria grinned, baring teeth.

"Good to see you too, Clove."

She strolled past me into the room without invitation, of course. I turned but left the door wide open, showing her that she wouldn't be staying. Enobaria had never been someone who I particularly enjoyed spending time with. I admired her courage, her feistiness, sure, but her personality? Not one of my favourites.

"What?" I demanded, crossing my arms across my chest – my automatic, no-nonsense stance.

Enobaria just rolled her eyes, remaining at ease.

"Chill out. Look, don't be annoyed at Cato I told him to act like he did. But what was so wrong with it? I was trying to help people like you, it's the only way they'll let you live in peace, you know that."

_Them _being the important people. The gamemakers. Snow.

I ignored her.

"Was there anything else you wanted?"

She sighed, stepping towards me.

"Just don't be mad, okay? I know it may seem rough right now but trust me, it gets better."

"I don't need your advice-"

"Will you just listen to me for once in your damn life, Clove? I'm trying to help you believe it or not. You seem to listen to absolutely no one these days, except maybe Cato. But I _am_ your mentor, whether you like it or not, and one of the only people who actually knows what you're going through right now. Yes, you may hate the Capitol but you'll just have to endure them. We all do. And I know coming to terms with having won the games is hard but you knew it would be. It was never going to be easy. Clove, you're one of the strongest people I know. You are. I've seen endless kinds go into those games and few come out again. But you _did_ and that speaks for itself. Don't screw it up now. Not after everything you've done to get here. You've just got to do what you have to do to please everyone for now and in a while; they'll find something else to obsess over." Enobaria stared me in the eye, lowering her voice. "The games _will_ change you. I'm sorry but it's unavoidable and you're just going to have to come to terms with that. They change everyone. It doesn't make you weak, it makes you stronger."

I had never heard her speak so passionately or _kindly_, for that matter, about anything. I didn't exactly know how to respond.

She gave up and marched past me when it became clear that I wasn't going to reply, turning around and stopping briefly on her way out. There was a small, teasing smile on her lips.

"Oh, and Clove? Seriously, don't be mad at Cato. He didn't want to say that stuff but I told him it would help you. It _will_. If there's one thing that gets the Capitol excited-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point," I cut her off with an eye roll, fighting a smile.

Enobaria beamed, showing her worryingly sharp teeth.

"I'll see you later, Clove. You did good tonight."

"Thanks," I answered, watching her walk off down the hallway of our quarters.

I shut my bedroom door with a gentle click and collapsed back in to the bed, thinking over what she'd said. Maybe I'd had her down wrong. Maybe she wasn't as brutal as everyone assumed. Then I remembered how she had killed someone in the arena with her bare teeth and my brain shut the hell up.

"Clove?"

It was Cato's voice from behind the closed door.

I got up and opened the door before retuning to where I had been sat on my bed. Cato stood in the doorway looking unsure and uneasy. He still hadn't changed out of his interview suit which, I had to admit, was pretty dashing. I smiled which only seemed to make him more nervous.

"Um… you aren't mad?" he asked, sounding confused.

"Nope," I qualified. I actually wasn't mad any more. If he had dropped by before Enobaria, had well…

"Oh. Good, I guess?"

I grinned.

"Well come in then."

Cato stepped into the spacious room and joined me on the bed, still wearing a worried expression.

"Seriously, I'm over it," I sighed, rolling my eyes, "even if you were a complete jackass."

He chuckled in response, easing up a bit.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Hmm. Well you'll just have to make it up to me, won't you?"

Cato smirked playfully, tugging on a strand of my Capitol-esque, glossy raven hair.

"And how would I do that?"

I ignored his question, running my hand over his chest and asking my own.

"Don't you want to get out of this thing?"

Cato looked down at this shirt with a Caesar-worthy twinkle in his eye.

"You make a good point," he declared, ripping off first the jacket and then the shirt.

I was about to join in when I noticed the door of the room still open. By this point I had ended laying on the bed with Cato half on top of me. There was no way I was getting up. But the door…

Then I had a brainwave. I reached down into the bag next to my bed which an avox had left me. It held a few items, nothing much. I rummaged through it with my free hand, barely interrupting Cato. My fingers suddenly curled around the petite, razor-sharp, wooden-handled knife that I had been looking for – one of my favourites for practicality. I grinned at Cato before flicking the knife across the room and into the wood of the door where it closed with a slam. Cato whipped his head between me and the door for a second before beaming as well.

"Have I mentioned lately how awesome you are?"

I shrugged.

"Not recently enough."

His throaty laugh filled my ears before his tone became lower and huskier.

"Now, where were we?"

Roast potatoes. Turkey. Steamed vegetables. Capitol food was _good_.

Cato and I had left my room a couple of hours later to join the others for dinner. He, of course, had wolfed down the food like the pig he was and excused himself from the table before me. I was just finishing up.

"The blue corset is such a better quality but it if wear that, I'll have to change my shoes…" Rondula was jabbering on to Lunarus and Garia, my prep team, who seemed to have become a pair of nodding dogs.

Enobaria hadn't showed up to eat, no surprises there. The other stylists and Capitol freaks were also there. Rondula had squealed in delight to find out that I had actually worn something from my approved wardrobe, rather than choosing to wear my own clothes as she assumed I would have. Besides that, and a brief discussion about the success of the interview, no one had spoken to me too much. Not that I was worried – I found talking to these tiny-minded creatures physically tiring.

After finishing my last mouthful, I excused myself from the table and went in search of Cato. I was in need of sane company. Well, sane-_er_.

I made my way to his room which was just down the hall from mine, and as I had been about to knock on the door, it flew backwards, almost hitting me in the face.

"Hey – Cato!" I squawked, dodging the wooden frame by inches. But it wasn't Cato. The person who stepped out had hard, cold eyes and withered, leathery skin. The last person that I had been expecting.

"Oh – President Snow. Um, sorry."

He smiled – or tried to – which was beyond creepy.

"Ah, Clove. I've been looking for you."

_Looking for me in Cato's room?_

"Uh, okay, here I am. How can I help?"

I hoped I sounded polite. Polite wasn't a tone that I used very often but I had to bare in mind that this man could have me killed at the click of his fingers, victor or not.

"Well if you'd care to join me. I'd like to have a little talk with you. You too, Cato."

Snow proceeded to walk down the corridor without another word. I cast a panic-stricken look at Cato who looked pale and terrified (exactly how I was feeling) before shrugging and following with him on my tail. Snow lead us to a small room towards the back of the building which I'd never been in before. It was small and bright and contained four chairs and a table. I wondered what it was used for.

"Please, take a seat," he instructed.

I followed the order and Cato eventually did too, albeit reluctantly. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife so it was too bad that I didn't have any with me.

Cato wanted to slaughter Snow, I wanted Cato to calm the hell down and Snow probably wanted us both dead. The silence was deafening.

Snow didn't sit himself, instead pacing up and down the room. Nothing was said for what felt like ages. It felt like a test, to see how well we would handle being along with him. _Say something. _I couldn't_. Do it. Have some balls will you?_ I took a deep breath and cleared my throat.

"Is it something we've done wrong, sir?" I asked in the politest tone I could manage, despite the underlying feeling of _yeah, I spoke first. I'm badass, deal with it_.

It was almost as if Snow could read my thoughts as a small smile spread across his face

"Not exactly, no," he answered in his deep, ancient voice. He stopped pacing to turn and glare at us. _No more Mr Nice Guy. _"But let it be remembered who is in charge here. You will do well not to forget why you're both alive today. You belong to _me_. You are Capitol property and that will never change. Do _not_ forget your place."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied sweetly.

"I should hope not. Otherwise, enjoy your stay." Snow turned to leave before abruptly stopping and looking at Cato. "Oh and I liked what you did in your interview. Very, shall we say… crowd-pleasing."

And then he was gone. Just like that. I counted to ten in my head to make sure hat he wasn't coming back before turning to Cato.

"Well that was odd," I noted.

He just nodded, seeming distracted. I snapped my fingers loudly.

"Cato! Say something."

"Say what?" he growled.

I rolled my eyes at his bad attitude before something occurred to me; Snow had already been in Cato's room.

"Cato… why was Snow in your room?"

"What? When?"

"Before he brought us here. What did he say to you?"

"He was looking for you. He didn't say anything."

I shook my head, ponytail swinging.

"No, why would he have been looking for me in there? Don't lie to me Cato, what did he say?"

"He said nothing!" he yelled, jumping to his feet. "Damn just, Clove, just let it go will you!"

He stormed out of the room, kicking the table as he went and splintering the wood.

"Oh my God," I breathed, placing my head in my hands.

If there had been any doubt before, now it was clear. Something had happened between Cato and Snow before I'd arrived. What had Snow said? More importantly, what had he _done_? I couldn't even begin to think about all the possibilities.

_This is bad_, my mind warned me, creating an endless chant. _This is really, really bad_.

**A/N: Ooh, what's gonna happen? Haha. This took soo long to write so if you could just take a second to review it would mean so much. xo**


	5. The Ball

**A/N: Sorry this took too long, school and stuff ugh. I really hope you like this chapter and any feedback is really, really appreciated! :)**

Cato wouldn't talk to me. Well, he would but not about the things that I wanted to discuss with him. Whenever I brought up Snow, he would either tactfully change the subject or just get mad. It was growing tiresome.

All I wanted was to be back in District 2 – _nothing _was private in the Capitol. It didn't exactly help matters that we had to attend this stupid ball held by Snow himself. I glanced up at the clock on the wall above me. 1 hour to go.

Romairo had presented me with another probably flamboyant garment to wear – I hadn't yet looked at it. They'd been checking on me soon. _I should get ready. _I had been sitting in the same position curled up in my bed for who knew how long.

I wasn't sure what had happened exactly but I was being overwhelmed by a feeling of youth, of vulnerability. We were all so young, thrown into the arena, forced to grow up. It had made me realise how young I actually was. My childhood had been practically non-existent, being forced into training school without a choice. How small and insignificant I was on the grand scale I was. I hated it.

"We're victors, Clove," Cato was continuously reminding me. _But what if we weren't?_ I wanted to ask. _What is we hadn't won? We were brought into the world knowing that our lives could be sacrificed in the blink of an eye. _What sort of life was that?

There was a soft knock on my door that I chose to ignore. I decided it really was time to get ready, though, so got up and unbagged the dress from Romairo. It was navy blue with long sleeves and ended just above knee length. The front wasn't outrageous for once but as I turned it round I discovered the huge, elaborate embroidered flower that covered the back of the bodice. There were pastel threads and shimmering beading and all kinds of immaculate detail. I smiled for probably for the first time all week.

"A clover," I smirked.

I hastily donned the dress which fit like a glove, no surprises there. It looked even more beautiful on, which a part of me hated – I didn't want to start liking the Capitol's exorbitant creations.

I sighed, taking a seat on the bed. I wanted to be ready for this party, I really did, but knowing that Snow had said something to Cato that had scared _him_ made it impossible. _Nothing _scared Cato. Nothing could break his armour. If you said that to him, he would probably say that I was the exception but even I couldn't fix what was going on with him right now. How could I fix it when didn't even understand it myself? And since he wouldn't talk to me…

Another knock at the door, louder and more urgent this time, filled the quiescent atmosphere pulling me from my thoughts. I reluctantly trailed over and opened it, knowing full well that it would be my sonorous stylists. I wasn't wrong.

"Clove, you look simply _ineffable_! But what's taken you so long? We barely have any time for your hair and make up now!" Garia hollered, barging in with Lunarus close behind.

I chose not to comment, letting them do their thing. It wasn't like anything I could have said would have made a difference anyway.

A little while passed as I sat like their doll but soon they had finished. My hair was pulled back into some kind of complicated braid and I didn't dare look at my face in the mirror. I was determined to remain in control for this ball.

My prep team finished and left in silence to change into their own outfits and do their hair and make-up, leaving me alone with my thoughts which was never a good thing. _Get it together. It's just a dumb feast_. The thought of being back in District 2 the next day was enough to make me get to my feet and march out of the room without a backwards glance. It wasn't long until I came across Cato, heading towards me with a look of concern plastered on his face. His features relaxed slightly when he saw me.

"I was just looking for you."

I frowned. Why had he been looking so worried?

"What's up with you?"

"Me?" he repeated, placing a hand over his chest. "Nothing."

_He's lying.  
_

"Huh."

Maybe he was just having pre-ball nerves. Something told me it was something more, though, as much as I hated to admit it. I had been hoping to forget all the business with Snow, at least until the feast was over. I was now seeing that that would be impossible. I couldn't think of anything else.

"Ready to go?"

I glanced up at him, chewing my lip. I wouldn't exactly have described myself as _ready_ but I was going to have to be, for Cato's sake if nothing else.

"Of course," I replied with a shrug.

I was a victor, I should be prepared for anything. Scratch that, I _was_ ready.

Just then, Rondula and the prep team scurried into view dressed even more elaborately than usual; outrageous make-up and clown-like dresses. I mean, really. What did they think they looked like?

Rondula's eccentric dress made mine look like a ragged hand-me-down with its over puffed shoulders, diamante-incrusted corset and several million layers of netted petticoats. There wasn't a single colour of the rainbow that I couldn't see somewhere about her person. Lunarus and Garia were in similar attire, followed by Romairo, who had just joined the group, wearing some kind of elaborate crimson cape. Cato and I managed to stay silent, choosing not to voice our opinions, though we were obviously thinking the same thing.

"You look ravishing!" Rondula squealed, clapping. "Oh, it's all so exciting!"

My God. If she carried on like this for the whole night, I have actually ended up killing her. I did find it funny though, how everyone seemed honoured, _so_ delighted to be going to the ball. What was so special about it, anyway?

"So are we going to this thing or what?" Cato asked, crossing his arms.

"Not with that attitude we're not," Rondula chastised him. "I mean, really, where are your manners?"

"Screw manners," he snapped, showing her out of the way and walking off through a set of double doors.

Rondula just stared at his retreating figure, eyes bulging. The prep team and stylists stood in silence, unsure of what to say at his sudden outburst. The stunned silence stretched on until I cleared my throat, forcing everyone's attention to me. Great.

"Don't mind him. He's just nervous because Snow will be there," I explained; a completely made up excuse off the top of my head but when I thought about it, it was nothing but the truth.

"Hmm," Rondula murmured. "Well, at least you seem to be having well for once."

I glowered at her, a slight growl escaping my lips.

"Anyway, we should get going. Don't want to be late!" Garia exclaimed, reinforcing the excitable atmosphere.

"I think that's something we can all agree on," Romairo smiled, nodding to Rondula who began leading the group.

I took a deep breath, following behind obediently.

_Ready or not here I come. _

We arrived in no time and Rondula, along with everyone else, were quick to desert me for better company. Before I entered the banquet room of Snow's colossal mansion, where the sound of chatter, laughter and gaudy music suffused the air, I spied Cato sulking in a corner. Thank _God_.

I practically ran over to him and squeezed his arm; a representation of my relief. I wasn't about to hug him but I think he sensed that I was glad to finally see him.

"I thought you'd gone in without me," I explained briefly, glancing at the floor.

He smiled slightly, brushing a hand across my cheek.

"As if."

Well at least he seemed to have calmed down some.

"Look, I know you don't want to do this but neither do I," I sighed, looking into his eyes, "so please-"

"I'm not going to leave you," he declared, cutting me off. "Let's just get this thing done. Together."

I shut my eyes momentarily, fighting a smile.

"Okay. But don't forget about the -"

"Cameras, I know," he frowned, finishing for me.

There was a moments silence as I thought about the dreaded act we'd have to put on, pretending that everything was all well and good. I found that every time I was in the Capitol I ended up having to put on some kind of front to please them and I hated it. I chewed on my lower lip in anticipation.

Cato seemed to be thinking about something hard, maybe the same thing as me. He looked down at me with a pained glint in his eye.

"Clove-"

"There you are!" he was suddenly being spoken over by a shrill, female voice. Rondula, rounding the corner in a flustered swirl of colour. "What are you doing? Everyone's expecting you!"

I ground my teeth in frustration.

"We're coming," I snapped, grabbing Cato and marching along behind her.

I didn't even pause when we reached the elaborately carved double doors with intricate detail and brass knobs, storming through with confidence. What I was presented with on the other side of those doors, however, wasn't anything I'd quite been expecting. I'd seen the Capitol and all its glory enough times but this – this was something else entirely.

The ceiling went up at least twelve metres and had somehow been transformed into the night sky, complete with swirls of fluffy clouds and glistening stars. I easily spotted the source of the gentle music; a band of musicians played on what looked like a floating cloud, halfway between the floor and the ceiling. There was a huge tiled area that acted as some sort of stage in the centre of the room. Over-stuffed chairs and sofas crowded the space; some surrounding fireplaces, others beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish. There wasn't any particular theme that I could pick out other than extravagance, maybe. But that pretty much covered everything in the Capitol.

"Clove!" a vast woman, draped in some kind of violet silk exclaimed, kissing me on the cheek. I pulled back instinctively before remembering about the cameras lurking round throughout the room. Still, hidden cameras weren't exactly a new thing for Cato and I.

I forced a smile on my face, enduring all the greetings and welcomes from unknown people. The amount of colour in the room was almost blinding. As I looked more closely at some of the outfits though, I noticed that many of them had tiny embroidered knives I subtle places, such as the neck or hemline, just as Romairo had put into my victory tour shirts. Huh. It looked like I had started some kind of trend.

I rolled my eyes and began to explore the room some more, Cato by my side. There was a mountainous table along the entire length of one wall completely buried in food. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen. As I stepped closer a little, I discovered some kind of pink frothy liquid with cream covered raspberries floating on top, a mint-green soup topped with basil leaves and strewn with seeds, a three-foot side platter stacked entirely with unusual fruits. Whole hogs sizzling in spit roasts, mounds of some kind of clear jelly, plates of whole fish starring up at me. You name it, it was there.

"They certainly know how to put on a good spread," Cato commented, in as much awe as me.

It would have been rude to let it go to waste. We tried almost everything and chatted to practically everyone in the room. I had never particularly liked dancing, Cato the same, so we remained at the sidelines, swaying slightly. Lunarus and Garia came over a second or two later, completely drunk.

"Isn't this _so_ much fun?" Garia giggled, waving her champagne flute around and splashing some on the floor.

"Of course," I replied sarcastically.

Although, despite the company, this party wasn't turning out to be nearly as bad as I'd been expecting.

"Ooh, have you tried the oysters yet?" Lunarus gasped, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Yes," I answered shortly. "Now can you go away?"

Garia pouted at me.

"Well you're no fun," she huffed, grabbing Lunarus's arm and marching towards the dance floor.

When I turned to look at Cato he was grinning.

"Shut up."

Just as we were about to return to our gentle swaying, a large man wearing a rather dapper, grass-green suit tapped me on the shoulder.

"Good evening," he said with a somewhat crazy smile. "I'm Plutarch. Plutarch Heavensbee." Ah, he must have been the new head gamemaker. I'd heard that Seneca Crane had been executed. Shame.

He turned his attention to Cato.

"I was wondering if I could steal your girl for a dance."

Cato nodded, smiling good-heartedly as Plutarch lead me over to the dancing area. We were barely dancing any more than I had been with Cato, just a small box-step type thing. He just smiled down at me knowingly, so I decided to break the silence.

"So, what's it like being head gamemaker?" I asked, pretending to actually give a damn. "Must be a lot of responsibility."

He smirked as if he could tell that I didn't care. Maybe it was obvious.

"I think I'll manage. Personally, I think there's more responsibility in being a victor of the Hunger Games."

I scoffed.

"Hardly. If you can't handle the life that comes with being a victor then you obviously don't deserve to be one."

"Is that so?" he replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Absolutely."

"I see," Plutarch smiled. "How are you finding it?"

I considered the cameras and throngs of people surrounding us before choosing my words.

"I've found that the life of a victor very much suits me."

It wasn't completely a lie.

"That's what I like to hear," he grinned. "And what about your District partner?"

"We share the same opinion." I raised my eyebrows, bringing the attention back to him. "What about you?"

Plutarch looked momentarily lost.

"Me?"

"Do you think you'd survive a victor's life? Would you be able to deal with having been in the games?"

He seemed a little taken aback by my question but was quick to cover it up. We continued to dance a little as he thought of his answer.

"Well… I don't see why not. Though my being in that ever situation is an impossibility. Even if I didn't live in the Capitol, I'm a little past the age limit," he joked.

"Yes," I answered, fake-smiling back at him. "It's a shame, really."

His eyes widened ever so slightly at my words but he covered it up smoothly by checking his watch.

"It's been wonderful to meet you Clove, but I've got a meeting at midnight which I must leave for. It's somewhat secret so I'd rather you didn't mention it to anyone."

Well that made no sense. If he was attending a secret meeting, why was he telling me? I shrugged it off because, quite frankly, I didn't care.

"Of course," I promised, stepping aside.

Plutarch looked at me for a moment before smiling.

"Good luck, Clove."

I had no idea what he meant but, before I could ask, he bowed, a gesture that I'd noticed was rather popular in the Capitol, and disappeared from sight, tailcoat flapping behind him.

I shook my head at the bizarre conversation, walking off to find Cato. Dealing with these insane people was hard enough; doing it _alone_ was a completely different kind of scary.

After scanning the room a couple of times and spotting him nowhere, I began wondering around the outskirts of the banquet room, checking where the various doors lead to. Bathroom. Coat room. Ominous staircase leading downwards. The next door I came across presented me with a long, winding hallway which I chose to step into, shutting it behind me. The endless blare of music and laughter from the party was cut off immediately. I glanced up and down the corridor, which was painted a pale blue and had expensive-looking paintings hung up here and there, wondering where it lead. I treaded lightly down the path, wincing as my footsteps caused a faint echo, piercing the silence.

I stopped a couple of seconds later, taking in the portrait hanging before me. It was President Snow in all his glory, thick acrylic paint shaping out his features. The frame that it had been placed in had been fashioned out of a thick bronze metal, encrusted with some kind of rubies or garnets. I managed to control my bitter comments, sticking to an eye roll in case there were secret cameras outside of the banquet room as well.

_Maybe Snow's watching you right now_. I shivered at the thought. I managed to shake that off though, continuing in the direction that I'd been travelling before. There were other paintings of beautiful landscapes or expensive objects and some other portraits, although none of whom I recognised.

Just then, I came across the first door that I'd seen so far. I hurried over to it and was just about to swing it backwards, checking if Cato had ended up in there, when voices from the other side made me freeze in my tracks.

"_No_!" someone bellowed thunderously. "You can't _do _that!"

It sounded a lot like-

"Cato, my boy, I think you'll find I can."

There was no mistaking President Snow's voice; it made my skin crawl. I pressed my ear right against the door to hear better.

"_Please_! Look, I'll do anything-"

Cato was _pleading _with him? That scared me more than anything.

"I've explained this more than once. You know what will happen if you refuse."

"But I can't just-"

"You _can_ and you _will_," Snow growled.

I didn't want to hear any more.

Without even thinking about what the hell I was doing, I grabbed the golden door handle and flung the wooden panel backwards, storming into the room.

Cato and Snow both snapped their heads towards me; Snow's expression was unchanging, Cato's transformed into a mask of pure horror.

"What are you doing here, Clove? What did you hear?" he demanded frantically.

I ignored him completely, walking up to Snow and starring him straight in the eye.

"What did you do to him?"

Snow just raised one silver eyebrow, not speaking.

"Whatever it is, he doesn't deserve it! Punish me if you want to, I really don't care, but leave him out of it! He's done _nothing_!" I yelled in his face.

Snow's eyes continued to bore into mine, his lips not moving.

"Answer me!" I screamed, swinging my hand out to slap him in the face.

Snow may have been old but his reflexes were quick – his hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing on to my wrist tightly, my palm avoiding contact with his face by a matter of millimetres. He didn't let go of my wrist as he spoke.

"I've always admired your feistiness, Clove."

He stared me down for an extra couple of seconds before releasing his grip and walking out of the room without a backward glance. That was it. He didn't break my wrist, call security, nothing. He was just gone.

I spun around to Cato who looked as stunned as I felt.

"What's going on, Cato?" I asked desperately before he could speak.

"No-"

"Don't you _dare_ say nothing!" I thundered at him. "_Tell me_."

He took a deep breath avoiding my eyes.

"Clove, don't you think I would have told you by now if I thought it would benefit you? You're better off not knowing. Please trust me; I just want you kept out of this."

"I refuse to accept that, sorry-"

"Well, _tough_! There's nothing you can do about it anyway-"

"Nothing I can do about _what_? How can you know that if you won't tell me?"

Cato shut his eyes and turned away from me, not speaking for what felt like an eternity.

I waited, breathing hard. When he spoke, his voice was completely flat, as if he had no emotion.

"I don't think I can do this any more, Clove," he told me, clenching his fists.

I just looked at him – well, his back – without moving. What was that supposed to mean?

"What?"

He took a couple of long breaths before speaking again.

"I can't do it. I can't do _us_. We tried, and it was great while it lasted, but I think it's time to call it a day."

I opened my mouth to answer but stopped myself, thinking over his words. I blinked a couple of times in confusion.

Then reality set in. Suddenly my hands, my breath, all of me started shaking slightly.

"Are you… are you breaking up with me?" I asked, my tone hollow because I already knew the answer.

They were such stupid words, so pathetic, so futile. I hated myself for even saying it out loud.

Cato turned so that he was actually facing me and seemed to be shaking as well.

"Yes," he choked out eventually.

All at once, my breathing was coming out in gasps and my eyes were stinging.

"What are you talking about? Wh-why would you say that?" I forced through the flow of tears that had begun without warning.

_Get it together. _But I couldn't. I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. I couldn't process what he was saying.

"_What about the games_?! You'd just throw that all away?" I screamed ear-piercingly loud between heaving sobs.

What was happening to me?

"After everything we've been through, _you can't just leave me_!"

He just stared at me with a pained look.

"I have to," he whispered. "I _have_ to."

"Bullshit you have to!" I screeched before lowering my voice to no more than a shaky whisper. "None of it was real, was it? You never even loved me."

Cato looked at me with pleading eyes as a single tear rolled down his face. I'd never seen him cry.

"Sorry," he sniffed, turning and fleeing from the room before I could stop him.

"Cato, don't do this," I shrieked. "_Cato_!"

I seemed to collapse into a ball on the floor as the truth became clear.

_He's not coming back. He's never coming back for you. Every time he ever showed you affection, every kiss, every touch… it was all lie. He doesn't want you. Who would? He used you to help him win the Hunger Games. You were just a tool to him, just another part of the plan. It's your own fault for allowing him in, for being so weak. You should have killed him back in the games when you had the chance._

But even then, I knew I'd never be able to kill him. How could I? He was the only person in existence that I actually loved. And what were you supposed to do when there was no one left that you loved?

I tried to figure it out as I lay a broken, crumpled sobbing heap on the floor.

**A/N: Aw, poor Clove, I'M SORRY please don't stop reading because of this chapter! Haha, let me know your thoughts?**


	6. The Truth

**A/N I'm SO SO SORRY this has taken longer than I hoped it would! I suck I know. I'm seriously so sorry about that. I've been working on a bunch of other things lately and I've had so much school work it's unreal. But anyways, it's here now! I really, really, hope you like this chapter and would love to hear any feedback you have :) Thanks for sticking with this story!**

I had never understood tears.

When I saw people crying after being reaped, I could never work out why. It was an unnecessary display of weakness. It gave no relief; it did not ease the pain by any means.

I had barely even cried when my parents had died. They had never loved me, anyway.

But even now, hours after Cato had walked away from me at the ball, I still couldn't stop the watery gleam from forming my eyes. I just didn't understand it.

I'd stumbled back to the training quarters a short while later and locked myself in my room. Somehow, I'd made it through the night and, although never finding unconsciousness, was now sitting on the train with Rondula by my side. It was like everything has just gone by in a blurry haze; I could barely even remember any of it. Rondula was continuously casting me uncertain looks as the tears continued to slide down my face. I didn't think they'd stopped.

As for Cato… I hadn't seen him since the ball. Being unwanted was something I was pretty used to but it had hit my so hard, being rejected by the one person who I'd thought always had my back.

Things changed. People changed. It was time to move on.

I picked at the expensive cotton chair that I was perched in, attempting to swallow my thoughts.

At least I'd be back in District 2 soon. That was the only thing stopping me from taking my favourite knife and doing something I knew I'd regret with it. But even then, when I returned to the place of my childhood, my _home_, what comfort would it be, really? I tried not to think about it much, unsuccessfully.

I glanced around the train carriage, just about able to make out the shapes around me through bleary eyes.

I cleared my throat, addressing Rondula.

"Where is he?" I asked her, my voice hoarse from being lout of use for hours. Of course she'd know who I meant. Who else?

Rondula studied me for a moment or two, the pity in her eyes was clearer than day. I sniffed and ran a hand across my cheeks, scrubbing away the tears.

_Stop._

If someone like _Rondula _was feeling sorry for me, something had to be done. It gave me just enough motivation to finally put an end to the stupid, pointless sniffles, or at least slow them down.

"He isn't on the train, Clove. Did no on tell you?"

I sat up a little straighter in my chair at her words. _You need to stop caring_, I inwardly warned myself.

"Why?" I questioned her, ignoring my common sense.

"He has to stay in the Capitol for a little while longer, some extra job he has to do or something. I'm not 100% on the details. He should be back in District 2 no more than a week after you," she explained.

Oh. I couldn't help but be curious about what he was doing even though I knew I shouldn't.

One part of my brain was spitting hate at him, hoping that he fell and got hit by a train in the Capitol, the stupid, self-obsessed _bastard_. The other part just wanted him here with me, wanted him to be waiting in our house when I got back to District 2.

Wanted him to be mine again.

After dreaming about returning for so long, actually being in my home District was a little bit of a let down. I said my goodbyes to Rondula at my doorstep and entered my house in the victor's village.

The curtains had the exact same kink in them as they'd had when I'd been here last. The couch still had the slight indents from where Cato and I usually sat. I stood in the doorway for a couple of minutes, observing my surroundings. It had been a fair while since I'd been in this house yet it seemed like I hadn't even left. It was so much bigger, so much emptier alone.

I gingerly dropped my bag on the floor and crept a couple of slow steps forward, perching on the edge of the seat. I stroked my hand over the plush cushion, inhaling the woodsy scent that was deeply permeated into the fabric. I shut my eyes and the overpowering smell struck me so hard, Cato could have been sitting right there in the room with me. My eyes were suddenly stinging twice as much with unshed tears but I refused to let them escape. I was stronger than that. For goodness sake, it was just a _boy_.

I swallowed, getting to my feet at once and marching up the stairs, pausing at my bedroom door. Logically, I knew that I should have gone in. I knew it was the only half-normal thing to do.

But instead, I tip-toed further down the desolate hallway and shoved back the door to Cato's room. I took one look at the twisted covers to his bed and unwashed clothes strewn across the floor and collapsed onto the king-sized mattress, letting the sobs take over.

Despite thinking that it was impossibility, I actually fell asleep after a little while, too exhausted to resist.

My dreams took me to strange places.

At first, blindingly bright images of the Capitol people, the clothes, the ball was all that filled my mind. High-pitched voices and extravagant fashion statements caused me to flinch, even in sleep. Every colour burned my eyes with its intensity.

Soon, the swirl of noise and images was twisted into something else. I was suddenly seeing my own body in a silky white bridal dress in front of my eyes. It was like I was a ghost or having an out of body experience or something. It was like reading about yourself in third person. There I was… yet I wasn't. My other self was stood in an airy church, surrounded by at least a hundred seated people, none of whom I recognised. I looked at myself holding my bouquet of violet flowers and grinning wildly. Who could have known that I could be that happy, wedding or not?

Just then, the organ started up, filling the room with echoey notes and all the guests rose to their feet. It was like my whole future was playing out in front of me but I knew it could never happen. None of this could be real.

I saw my other self start to gradually descend down the aisle, all eyes in the room snagged on my entrance. A broad man with white-silvery hair clasped my arm. I couldn't see his face but who knew who it could have been? My father was dead. But then again, none of this was true so anything could happen.

Cato stood at the end of the aisle beaming at me. His suit was ebony black and Capitol-worthy crisp. Eventually, I reached him and the vicar declared that we were married and we kissed in the candle light and everyone applauded and I had never seen anything so perfect. I stood in my ghost-like state, shaking slightly. I hadn't realised how much I wanted this until I saw it happen in front of me.

The moment didn't last though as I watched the love and happiness slowly drain out of Cato's eyes and was replaced by anger and hatred. The man who had been holding my arm as I walked down the aisle spun around and grabbed Cato's forearm, ripping him from my grip.

It was President Snow. Of course.

"You don't deserve happiness!" Snow screamed, dragging Cato down the aisle and hauling him out the door.

And all I could do in my ghostly form was stand and watch in horror as the scene unfolded before my eyes.

Before I'd even had time to process what was happening in my twisted dream, my mind transported me to a different church, this one filled with just four or five people. There was a large, oak coffin up at the front of the altar and a priest talking but no one seemed to be listening. _It's my funeral. Five people attending my funeral. _I had never been the most popular person but… I couldn't help but get shivers at the image in front of me and just be thankful that it wasn't real.

Snow reappeared out of what seemed to be nowhere, repeating his earlier words with a malicious smile.

"You don't deserve happiness."

I looked into his dark, empty eyes and felt myself grow cold.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a whisper, my voice cracking.

Snow just stared at me without replying, laughing like madman. His evil chuckling echoed through my head, on and on and on and on…

I leapt up in bed, screaming, sweating, gasping for air.

_Oh, God. Get a grip. It was a dream. A stupid, horrible dream. Meaningless._

I took a shaky breath, placing both hands over my eyes and feeling the tears fall.

How long was this torture going to last?

Much longer than I'd ever anticipated, that was how long. I'd never experienced heartbreak or anything even close but I hadn't ever expected it to be quite so painful.

And time passed.

Without me consciously noticing, it passed. I barely left the house at all in the first week of being alone. I had no reason to. Once a fortnight had nearly gone by, I started to go training again, taking out my anger, my pain, my jumbled mess of emotion on overstuffed dummies. It felt good. Barely anyone spoke to me anymore, most of them too scared to even approach me. Well, that was fine.

A few weeks passed, then a month, then longer.

As much of a front that I was attempting to put on, as hard as I was trying (and _believe me_ I was trying) I just couldn't cope. I hadn't recovered. _Still._ I was beginning to doubt if I ever would.

Nothing was the same any more, nothing felt even remotely close. And, above all else, I couldn't stop thinking about Rondula's last words to me. Cato had to stay in the Capitol for extra work. He should have been back no more than a week after me. Well it had been over a month so _where was he_? Maybe he was never coming back to District 2. _What if I never see him again? What if him leaving me was the last conversation we ever have?_

My breaths were suddenly shallow and coming more rapidly. I was on the verge of a complete breakdown.

Before I totally lost it, I decided to just do something. _Anything._

I rushed home from training that day and as soon as I got there, reached for the telephone on my side-table, a device that everyone seemed to have in the Capitol but I'd never understood the need for one. It had been given to us when we'd moved into our house in the victor's village with only about five pre-set numbers. I hastily selected the one that I wanted and waited nervously, chewing on my lower lip. The dial tone seemed to get louder and louder as the seconds ticked by until an all-too familiar high-pitched voice answered, slightly out of puff.

"Hello, how can I help?"

Well. I never thought I'd be relieved to hear that voice. If I hadn't been so desperate I may have actually cracked a smile.

"Rondula. It's me. It's Clove."

Rondula seemed slightly distracted but happy none the less.

"Clove!" It's so nice t hear from you. How's my favourite District?"

"Where's Cato?" I asked slightly frantically. I had no patience for small talk.

"Cato?" Rondula seemed a little taken aback, though I had no idea why. "Oh, Cato. Yes. Where is he? Uh, right now? I haven't the faintest idea."

I bit down on my lip harder.

"Do you have any idea what he might be doing? You said he'd be back weeks ago."

"Did I?" she wondered aloud. "Well I'm sure he just got held up with something. I'm not really sure-"

"Rondula, please," I cut her off, my voice lowering. "I need to know. I _need_ to."

She finally seemed to recognize the desperation in my tone.

"I'm sorry, Clove. I honestly don't know where he is. Last I heard he was working for the President."

Just what I'd feared. I let the silence stretch on as I processed that.

"I have to see him." My voice broke.

Rondula paused.

"Clove-"

"Let me come to the Capitol. Let me talk to him."

She didn't talk for a little while.

"I think it would be in your best interests to stay."

"Since when do you know what's best for me?" I snapped, becoming infuriated.

"I _am_ your supervisor, remember?'

"Not any more. I could easily get a train-"

"Look, Clove, I lied. I have spoken to Cato. He - he doesn't want you to come. I'm sorry."

I paused to take in what she'd said.

"I don't care! I need to see him!"

"And how are you going to get here?"

"You can arrange something for me-"

"I've already told you I'm not doing that."

I gaped openly despite her not being able to see me.

"So that's it, you won't help me? You're choosing him over me."

"Clove there aren't sides to choose from, I've just already promised him to keep you away."

I tried to ignore the ripping feeling in my heart at her words. He really wanted me to stay away from him that badly?

"I have to respect his wishes," Rondula continued.

"What about my wishes? Or do I just not matter?"

She sighed audibly.

"I've made my decision, Clove. I'm sorry but I can't help you."

"Can't or won't?" I growled but hung up the phone and smashed it down into the holder before she could answer.

I had to count to ten in my head to calm my breathing before I could even think of what to do next. How could Rondula do that to me? I guess I'd been wrong about her - she was just the same as everyone else that populated the Capitol, only caring about themselves.

I stopped, weighing up my options.

I could just stop making a fuss, forget Cato and get on with my life like everyone wanted me to. I was pretty sure that was never going to happen, though. Did I look like the type of person to go down without a fight?

I squeezed my eyes shut in anticipation, dialing Romairo's number on the telephone; a device that was still pretty foreign to me. After the dial tone for a couple of seconds, he answered warmly.

"Hello?"

"It's Clove. Romairo I need you to help me with something," I explained, cutting to the chase. Romairo had always been a no-nonsense kind of guy.

"Okay," he answered calmly. "Go on."

I swallowed.

"I need to see Cato."

God, I sounded so pathetic.

"I see. And you expect me to help you how?"

"Arrange a train, order a helicopter, anything!"

Romairo seemed hesitant to answer so I continued.

"If Cato's already spoken to you, ignore what he's said. After all, you're my stylist not his."

"No, no I haven't been in contact with him since the Victory Tour. I've no reason to, to be quite honest. But Clove, you know I can't do that."

"What? Why not?" I asked in a panicked tone. If this failed, I didn't exactly have a contingency plan. My prep team would be no help whatsoever.

"I don't have access to where trains and helicopters go and I'm certainly not authorized to send one to you. I'm sorry, Clove. I really wish I could help."

I clenched my fists in frustration.

"You're sure? There could be some way for you to-"

"It's just not possible."

My whole body sagged at his words. That was it. That was my last hope, vanished like dust in the wind.

"Fine. Thanks, I guess," I mumbled, preparing to hang up the phone.

There was a barely audible sound from the ear piece, just as I was about to place it down. I hastily grabbed the phone back to my ear.

"Wait!' Romairo cried.

"Yes?" I asked, fully alert.

"Well..." he seemed deeply hesitant again but I waited patiently. "There is something-"

"I'm listening," I stated, heart racing. "You have my full attention."

"It might not even work and I don't want to get your hopes up-"

"Just tell me or I swear I won't be responsible for my actions."

I could practically hear him wincing.

"I could give you his phone number," he told me finally.

"Cato has a phone?" I wondered aloud.

"Of course. But you know, he might not even answer. And if anyone finds out I've given it to you, I'll be arrested or worse. This is confidential information I'm giving out."

"Yeah, yeah, of course I won't tell anyone. Now can I have it?"

I was practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

Romairo sighed but I could sense him smiling. He carefully read me out the number which I scribbled down on a piece of paper, double checking it and then once again just to make sure.

There was a brief silence afterwards, neither Romairo or I really knowing what to say.

"I everything works out for you, Clove. I really do."

My lips curved into a slight smile as he spoke. I gripped the paper close to my chest, leaning against the wall beside me in relief. I couldn't believe that I actually had a means of contacting Cato.

"Thank you," I replied, meaningfully.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone, still on a slight high of excitement.

_Should I wait? Or just get it over with?_

I decided that the latter would probably be easier – it wasn't like I'd be able to do anything in the mean time anyway; my brain was too hyped up.

I gulped in a breath of air carefully and precisely dialling the numbers on the piece of paper.

I froze just before making the call. _Is this really what you want? He doesn't love you. He doesn't want to hear from you._ Well, that may have been the case but I was honestly past caring. He could just suck it up.

I hit the call button and waited anxiously, tapping my foot against the wooden frame of the door rhythmically.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring_. On and on it went.

Who was I kidding? He wouldn't answer, especially not if he knew it was me.

_Ring, ring. _

Just as I was about to end the call, there was a faint click on the other and of the line and the ringing came to an abrupt end.

"Uh - yeah? Hello?"

My mouth opened automatically but not a sound came out. I slowly sank down the floor, my mouth hanging open like an idiot. I just – I couldn't – my heart lurched at the sound of his voice so painfully that I couldn't even hold myself up. How long had it been? A month or two? Nothing too ridiculous. So why was my body reacting this way?

It was like Cato was right there; his warm voice in my ear brought back an entire flood of memories. I'd never gone over a night without him since I was a child. To have been separated and then reunited, even though a telephone earpiece, it was… beyond anything I could possibly describe. And it was then that I realised just how much I _needed_ him. I needed him to survive.

My hands shook slightly at the surreal moment. His voice was one that I'd heard so frequently over the years yet the sound of it now made me feel like I'd never heard it before. So beautiful. After all this pain and heartbreak, I don't think I'd ever heard something quite as magical as Cato's living, breathing self on the other end of the line.

"Is anyone there?" he asked sounding tired and distracted.

I knew that I should have said something, I'd probably only get one shot at this conversation, but it was hard to get my brain to function properly. I just wanted to listen to his voice all day long – to talk over it would be a crime. Just as I'd gathered up the courage to actually speak the words, to just tell him 'it's Clove', my attention was suddenly being alerted to another sound on the other end of the line, this one more distant. It sounded slightly further away and was distinctly female.

"It doesn't matter. Come back to bed."

Cato chuckled and I could hear the grin in his voice.

"Okay."

I tried to take a deep breath to settle myself but it was just no use, every time I tried to breathe, I ended up choking as the tears were already silently streaming down my cheeks. The phone clattered to the floor as my hands grew too numb to grip it.

So. He'd moved on already. To some Capitol slut, no less.

I jumped to my feet, shaking all over, not quite sure of what to do.

I sprinted up the stairs and along the hallway, not stopping until I was in Cato's room. I burst in, ripping the bedclothes off of the mattress, grabbing handfuls of clothes and tossing them in the air, kicking over his bedside lamp and watching the bulb smash to pieces.

"_You bastard_!" I screamed at the empty room. The sound was filled with fear and hatred as it tore through the light and back again on to the point where it began.

I'd never felt so betrayed in all my life. I collapsed on the floor next to his bed, being enveloped in heaving sobs.

It felt like a lifetime but what I supposed was only about half an hour or so later, when the tears had subsided slightly and I took my head out of my hands to assess the destruction that I'd created. A gleaming beam of light out of the corner of my eye caught my attention and as I looked up, I saw it. A tiny metal handled knife catching the light poking out from behind the bedside dresser; it must have been knocked when I'd thrown Cato's stuff. It was one of mine. I reached up and curled my fingers around the handle, bringing it closer. Teardrops seeped out of the corners of my eyes without permission as I saw the engraving in the side of the handle reading 'Clove'. Cato had got it personalized for my fifteenth birthday.

Without really thinking about what I was doing, I slowly lowered the blade down with a shaky hand until it connected with my wrist. I winced as the rigid edge sunk into my pale skin, slicing it like it was no more than butter, and a small trail of scarlet blood seeped out. Ugh. It burned. But it was a good kind of burn. It distracted me from everything else; my brain barely even remembered who Cato was as my entire attention was focused on the pain coming from my left arm. I dug the knife in deeper, enjoying watching the stream of warm liquid grow thicker and flow faster. I repeated the process three or four times along my arm, feeling more relief with each cut. The pain was so great now I was finding it hard to concentrate, tears of agony forming in my eyes rather than betrayal. The world slowly became more and more blurry and I absently felt myself tip sideways. My last unfocused thought was a high-pitched female voice, '_come back to bed_'.

I hoped I didn't wake up.

**A/N Sorry this has gotten so depressing! I'd love to know your theories on what's going to happen. Let me know if you liked this chapter by reviewing so I can know whether to continue! xo**


	7. The Quell

**A/N: Ahh hey sorry this has taken a little while but yeah, it's here now. There have been so many new reviews since the last chapter and I just want to say how grateful I am for each and every one. I read all of them and they all mean so much so thank you! Also, a lot of people keep asking when it will be updated so I'll just clear that up here. I'm hoping to get a new chapter up for this fic at least once every two weeks. Okay I know most fanfics have one new chapter per week but for one thing, my chapters are a lot longer than your average fanfic chapter I think and also it takes a long time to write them. But I'm also super busy with school and stuff so yeah it will probably be fortnightly updates, I really hope that's okay with you guys I will definitely try to do them quicker than that whenever possible, though. The next chapter may be a little bit late (not definitely, it just might be) this is just a heads up because it's Breaking Dawn this Friday (asdkf;lioglbn ckjvbkl) and then my Birthday at the weekend (woo) and yeah I've got loads of stuff going on but I hope to get it up asap! Okay, this has gotten really long so I'll go now, I really really hope you like this chapter and I'd love to hear what you think! :)**

Pain was white.

I'd always thought it was red like blood or even black but as I lay in my numb state, barely even able to remember where or who I was, I realized that it was piercing, blinding white. The intensity of it burned behind my eyes like having a torch shone in your face. I couldn't describe how I felt. It was as if I was in a coma. I couldn't feel, I couldn't sense, my body was dead. But I could think. I could tell that the pain inside me was white and more powerful than anything I'd ever thought possible.

I couldn't tell how long it'd been, where I was, I hardly knew my own name. All my mind could focus on was the fact that Cato didn't want me. Not any more, not ever. Nothing mattered now.

Sometimes my thoughts drifted to other, more pleasant places, sometimes not. Sometimes it presented me with images of my parents before their deaths, or a purposeless flashback of the games; warm blood on my palms, the feeling of superiority…

But it never lasted.

I was always launched back into the white pain when even a flicker of Cato's image filled my head. Every thought found a way of circling back to him, causing my eyes to water with the intensity of the white-hot burn that filled my chest.

Everything hurt.

Occasionally I'd wonder if he was hurting too. If he thought of me and paused, even for a second, to wonder what I was feeling, whether I was suffering. _Of course not._ Why would he? I was alone in this.

Alone.

At least that's what I'd thought though, as my body began to regain some kind of feeling, I sensed someone standing over me. I knew that I should have been alarmed, mildly shocked at the very least, but I wasn't able to conjure up any kind of emotion more than a mild sense of curiosity.

Ugh. Waking up was definitely a disappointment. What was the point? At least it put an end to the white-pain that had almost driven me to insanity.

My eyes unclosed slowly, the brightness behind them being replaced by artificial beams of light. I was still in Cato's room but somehow I'd ended up in the bed rather than strewn across the floor. As my eyes adjusted slowly to my surroundings, I was able to make out a male silhouette and, when I focused harder, a pair of worried hazel eyes and a mess of jet black hair.

"Romairo?" I croaked.

My throat ached like crazy and my head wouldn't stop pounding.

"Ah, you're awake," Romairo smiled.

I looked down at my white cotton shirt and winced as I saw the dark red patch covering all of one side. I ran my fingers through my hair, finding black sticky liquid dried into that as well.

"Blood," I murmured in distaste.

"Yes," Romairo nodded, a crease appearing between his eyes. "I would have changed your clothes and such but I doubt you'd have approved."

"Absolutely," I snapped sternly.

I glanced at my wrists which had been cleaned up nicely, a trace of blood in sight. The still raw, pink lines throbbed a little bit but I tried to ignore it. they'd heal soon enough. Unlike other things.

When I looked up again, Romairo was eying me carefully.

"What are you even doing here?" I blurted.

He frowned, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I was worried. I knew that giving you Cato's number was a mistake. I thought I'd come to see how you were doing – turns out it was just as well."

I blinked.

"Wait, back up a sec, what do you mean you knew it was a mistake? Did you – did you know about him-" _about him replacing me already,_ I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. Romairo wouldn't have given me Cato's number if he knew I'd get my heart broken… again. Would he?

"I had my suspicions," he admitted, shaking his head, "but I wasn't sure. And you were so desperate…"

"So it's my fault?" I barked at him.

"Of course not," he sighed. "It's no one's fault."

I glared at him, my blood heating in anger.

"Oh, I can think of someone to blame."

"Clove-"

"Don't you _dare_ defend him. Just don't."

Romairo held his hands up in surrender, falling silent.

I stretched out, wincing as the pain shot through me again.

"I need to shower," I muttered, getting to my feet and walking towards the exit of the room.

I paused at the doorway, turning back to Romairo who was still sat on the edge of the bed looking mightily unhappy about the whole situation.

"Um, thanks," I said, attempting a small smile.

Romairo's eyes softened as he looked at me, nodding once. It was pretty unbelievable that he'd come all the way from the Capitol just to see if I was okay. I had never really experienced kindness in such a way, at least not since… Cato.

I spent much longer in the shower than I should have.

The burning stream of water was heaven and helped me clear my head of everything; Cato, his new girlfriend's voice, the pain from the blade in my skin the previous day, President Snow and his bitter, cold eyes…

It was just me and the water. Everything else ceased to exist.

I had to scrub at my hair and rinse it three times before the last trace of sticky blood had vanished down the plug hole. The gashes in my arm stung when in contact with the soapy water but I was able to ignore it.

Having had Romairo come to visit was like a massive wake-up call. _Get your act together, Clove. You're acting pathetic. _I needed to get back to my old self; before I entered the games and was crowned a victor, before I met Cato, even. Before my parents had died. Back when I was just another kid from District 2.

I donned some clean clothes and shuffled back to Cato's room where Romairo was waiting.

"Much better," he grinned sweetly and I couldn't stop my lips curving into a smile as well.

"Did you tell Rondula that you came?" I wondered, taking a seat and shaking out my damp hair.

"No. she has no reason to take interest in what I do."

I felt slightly relieved although I didn't know why.

"Good. She's on Team Cato."

Romairo chuckled at my made-up term.

"I'm sure she isn't but if it makes you feel any better, I'm very much on Team Clove."

I looked down, snorting slightly.

"Thanks."

It was then that something occurred to me though and the amused smile disappeared right off my face.

"Romairo," I began slowly, biting my lip out of habit, "you won't… you're not going to tell anyone, are you? About how you found me, I mean."

His lips turned down at the corners as he paused for a second.

"I should do," he told me, "but no, I won't tell anyone. Only if you promise not to do anything like this again. I won't be here next time."

"Okay, fine. I won't," I lied through my teeth, hopefully convincingly.

It seemed to work as Romairo nodded slowly, standing up.

"You need some sleep," he instructed. "There's a drink on the nightstand. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

What?

"You're not staying," I said.

"Sorry but I am, at least until you're more recovered."

"For goodness sake, I'm fine-"

"Clove, I'm not going anywhere so you may as well be quiet and sleep."

I growled quietly but didn't further comment. I'd never admit it aloud but having a bit of company in my huge, empty house might actually make a nice change. Even if it was my Capitol stylist.

And Romairo stuck to his word.

He didn't leave for the next three days, sleeping on the couch while I slumbered in Cato;s bed, bringing me food and drunk like I was some kind of invalid. I was eventually able to persuade him to leave. Don't get me wrong, having him around had definitely helped me get my head into a better place but I was beginning to need some alone time. So he left once I'd thanked him and after promising to visit again soon and here I was again.

Alone.

It was better this time though. I knew that I would have to get on with my life, that I'd have to get used to being alone. Cato wasn't coming back for me. No one was. It was tough to come to terms with but I was getting there, slowly but surely.

I began to go out again. I had to be careful to cover my scars at first but that was only a minor problem. I took up my old job at the training centre, teaching knife-throwing, I helped out at the local school, keeping busy wherever I could. It made me feel better and, after some time, I got through whole days without Cato and my past life even entering my mind. Those were the good days. I was able to just… get on. It worked for me to block out all the old memories. It was either that or confronting them and I sure as hell wasn't ready for that.

Months ticked on by and there was still no sign of Cato. Every day that I showed up to the training centre to see it empty of his presence yet again, it did strange things to be inside. I tried to ignore it, to accept that he was a Capitol resident now, he'd moved on; I should too.

Before I'd even processed it, the Quarter Quell was upon me, not that I was particularly interested at first. There was something about this particular event, though, that I couldn't seem to keep off my mind.

Cato would be there.

He'd have to be, surely. All citizens of District 2 were required to attend the reaping and technically that still applied to him. I couldn't even contemplate seeing him again without shivering chills of pure excitement and my stomach knotting up sharply. Good, Lord. If my body was reacting like this now, what was I going to do when I was actually faced with him?

I'd been trying to avoid the subject in my mind but it was hard when everywhere I looked, everything I smelt in my own house reminded me of him. It also didn't help that wherever I went, people looked at me in sympathy, knowing full well that Cato and I were going to be seeing each other for the first time in six months any day now. I couldn't take it. I was going out of my mind with anticipation.

Part of me imagined Cato pacing nervously at that minute, wherever he might be, worrying about being in the same small space as me after all this time, but at the same time eagerly wishing it would come around sooner. They were all just fantasies though. He didn't care. He probably didn't even realize he was due back in District 2 by now. Then my brain began conjuring up images of what he might actually be doing; maybe he was out for dinner with his girlfriend, perhaps they were sharing a joke, an intimate moment, a kiss... Maybe more.

It was about then that I told my brain to shut the hell up before I carved it out of my skull and trampled on it.

And, it felt like it'd been an awfully long time, but finally it came, much to my utter dismay. The announcement.

It was 7.30 at night on the dot when I switched on the television, Caesar Flickerman's popular show had been on just before, which luckily I'd missed. I hadn't even used the expensive TV since owning the house; I had no desire to. But that evening, I figured I may as well watch the reading of the card – I'd have to be at the reaping so I may as well find out what they were doing this year.

The camera swung round to focus on President Snow and it took all my self-control not to switch if off right there and then. Looking at him made me sick, knowing that he probably forced Cato to work for him, in the beginning at least. He began by explaining to the audience what had happened in the previous Quarter Quells and continued droning on and on about things that I knew full well about as I became increasingly uninterested. Were there really people who knew nothing about the past Quarter Quells? Did he really need to explain all of this? I supposed that maybe not everyone had done as much research on the subject as Cato and I had before entering the games.

"And now we honour our third Quarter Quell," he bellowed, at last getting to the point. A little boy in white stepped forward, holding out a box and carefully lifting the lid. The President slowly selected an envelope marked '75', running his finger across the seal and unfolding the piece of paper inside. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

I jumped to my feet though what I was about to do, I'm not quite sure.

"Wha-what?" I spluttered at the empty room, mouth hanging open.

What did he mean? Existing pool of victors? But that meant… that meant I could be picked.

I could be entering the games again.

I sunk down to the floor, gasping for breath.

"_Oh my God_," I breathed.

How could Snow have done this? How could this be happening?

I placing my head in my hands in desperation.

I couldn't go back into the games. I was just getting my life back on track. I couldn't go back there!

My initial thoughts were suddenly being overpowered by other ones, though, and at once I was much more terrified. Not for me… for Cato. Forget about me, what if _he_ was reaped? What if he had to go and fight in the games with no allies? What if… if he didn't make it out again? Then what would I do?

Hundreds of questions swam around in my mind like piranhas as hard as I tried to ignore them. Everything was spiralling out of control and there was nothing I could do to stop it…

Without thinking about it, I reached for the small, wooden-handled knife on the table next to me and forced it into my arm, letting out a whimper of pain as it broke the skin and began spilling blood everywhere. This time, though, the burn wasn't a good type of burn, it just reminded me of everything that was going wrong and my promise to Romairo. I felt instantly guilty, not better. I shook my head, throwing the knife across the room with a scream of frustration. It clattered on the wooden floor in the kitchen, splattering blood across the walls but I ignored it. I clambered to my feet and jogged to the bathroom sink, grabbing a damp towel and pressing it against my arm.

"Enough," I commanded myself, wincing in pain.

This wasn't helping anything. _What would the old me have done?_ I wondered, shutting my eyes. She would have assessed the bad situation and done everything in her power to resolve it, no matter what it took. She was strong; she could do anything she set her mind to.

I wasn't that girl anymore though. And what could I possibly have done? I couldn't go back in time and change the writing on the reaping card; I couldn't stop the Quell from going ahead. I was powerless.

Completely useless.

I trailed back to the living room, collapsing on the couch and trying to empty my mind. There was nothing I could do, so why bother even sweating about it. What happened, happened, regardless of what I did to stop it.

I slowly drifted to sleep, my mouth twisted into a grimace the whole night, wondering how Cato had taken the news.

I supposed I'd be finding out soon enough…

_Soon_ was an understatement; it felt like only a day had passed before the reaping was actually happening.

I woke up in the morning, reluctant to open my eyes. I dressed slowly in my reaping clothes; a pale green dress which I hated but it was compulsory for the girls to wear dresses, a skirt at least. I took my time getting ready, mostly because I still wasn't sure if I was ready to even attend the ceremony, but also because I knew there were going to be cameras there and I'd probably be one of the most focused on people – I wanted to look my best, didn't I? No one could know how hard I'd found my first year of being a victor, I wouldn't let them.

I carefully braided my dark hair into a crown of knots and made sure that my skin looked clear before carefully taking a deep breath in front of the mirror. _It will be fine_, I told myself repeatedly but it did nothing to settle my nerves. I knew it wouldn't be. The odds just never seemed to be in my favour.

The day of the reaping was hot and sultry. When I got to the square, it was midday and the majority of the population of District 2 was stood waiting and sweating, machine guns trained on them. I couldn't believe how quickly it'd come around, it seemed so recently that I was having my name picked out of that reaping bowl and being ushered off, Cato by my side. There was a small roped-off area where the previous victors stood. I slowly walked over to the girls section, recognising some of the faces there. There was Lyme and a girl just a couple of years older than me; I think her name was Alexia. There was Enobaria, looking unaffected by the whole situation of course. The rest of the group I had seen most of generally around the training centre.

I took a deep breath and slowly counted to three in my head. Slowly, I turned my head in the direction of the boy's pen and it took me just half a second to see him, half a second more to process what I was seeing. Cato stood, facing in the other direction to me, arms folded across his chest. He wore a smart shirt and plain pants – a completely ordinary outfit but he somehow made it look Godly. His blond hair shined golden in the overhead sun. It was longer than it'd been when I'd seen him last, and messier. There was an aroma of pure power radiating around him despite many of the men surrounding him being older and stronger. My breath caught in my throat. So many memories, so much history, all rushing to the surface. It had been - how long? Yet somehow it felt so right to be in the same place as him again, it was as if he hadn't even left. He turned around suddenly, looking bored, but the second our eyes met he froze, icy-blue eyes widening in shock, folded arms dropping to his sides as if he couldn't support them anymore. It felt like I was being stabbed in the heart… but it was good. I took a physical step backwards as if the pressure on my chest was real instead of purely coming from my mind. His mouth hung agape the same as me, our locked eyes not budging, not even to blink. We were at least ten meters apart but he may as well have been right up in my face, it was that intense. Neither one of us made a move to speak. There was nothing to say.

Before I'd even had time to recover, Rondula's booming voice coming from the stage stunned me into breaking eye contact and just like that the connection was broken. When I turned back, Cato was focused on Rondula's animated speech on stage, refusing to look back in my direction.

I couldn't focus on anything a while, my brain too dazed to tear my eyes away from the back of Cato's head. I managed to pay attention, though, when I heard her preparing to read the names out.

"I think we'll start with the boys," she called cheerfully. "It's not every day we have a Quarter Quell!"

I clenched my fists in annoyance at her Capitol voice. It made me want to vomit. As she approached the boys reaping bowl I felt my whole body vibrating in anticipation of her next words, my fingers trembling slightly.

There was a little while of tense silence as she hastily snatched a slip of paper from the glass cauldron and unfolded it, clearing her throat before she spoke.

Her next words made me choke on my breath and a strangled kind of sound escape my throat.

"Cato," I whispered, parroting Rondula's words.

_No. No, no, no, no…_

This couldn't be happening. Out of all the victors, why did Cato have to be picked?

I glanced over at him, after Rondula read his name, everyone else looking in his direction as well.

He looked cool and calm, completely fine about being picked. At least that's what everyone else would have seen. But I could see under the armour that he was shocked, distraught… he was scared. He was alone. That's what he thought, anyway. I could see how much he was dying inside and how so very hard he wished he hadn't been reaped.

I wanted to cry. For him, not for me. I wanted to sprint over and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him hard and stroke my hands though his hair and tell him that it would all be okay because he had me. What else could he possibly need?

But he didn't. He didn't have me. Not anymore.

I swallowed, biting back my emotions and watching in torture as he made his way up to the stage, introducing himself to the crowd as if they didn't know him. I could sense Brutus's gaze trained on me in concern but I didn't return it. I couldn't look weak, especially not now.

Rondula smiled joyously, ambling over to the other ball of names.

"Girls, next," she declared, sticking her hand through the hole and rummaging around manically.

I was barely even concentrating on what she was doing. I didn't care. I didn't care about myself anymore.

All I could think about was Cato. He wouldn't be able to survive the games alone, I just knew it. He'd get too angry, he wouldn't think about things. He's always been hot-headed but he'd always had me to rein him in. How was he going to cope on his own, not knowing anyone?

I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I barely even heard Rondula's high-pitched voice reveal the female tribute. When I did I gasped absently.

"Enobaria Roland!"

It wasn't me. It was _Enobaria_.

Enobaria – my strong, independent mentor who'd been there to guide me through everything. We may not have always got along but I wouldn't have wished this upon anyone. As I turned, I saw her face fall and her eyes open wide in horror. She may have been strong and independent and Lord knew she was deadly but no one could be blasé about being picked at the reaping, especially if it was the second time around. It just wasn't possible.

She cleared her throat and began to walk forward but she'd only taken two steps when my brain decided to shut off and my body acted purely on instinct.

"No, you can't!" I exclaimed, ridiculously at her retreating figure.

She spun, looking concerned.

"What are you doing, Clove?"

"You can't go back there," I breathed, shaking my head.

Why should Enobaria have to go and relive the horror of the arena, all these years after she'd won? Why should Cato have to suffer alone, without me having a chance to even speak to him?

I thought back to how I'd felt when the reaping card had been read and realised that the situation now was the complete opposite of that. Then I'd been completely powerless, unable to do anything to help anyone. But now – I could actually do something. I could change the course of injustice.

I stepped forward, ignoring everyone's eyes locked on me. I looked up; my eyes meeting with Cato's, his face a mask of pure horror. When I spoke my voice was loud and clear and a whole lot more confident than how I felt.

"_I volunteer as tribute_!"


	8. Déjà vu

**A/N Hey guys! So hopefully this isn't too late! Every single review makes my day better so thank you alllll! And also thanks so much for the birthday wishes, for those asking I turned 16 :) I really hope you like this and if you bother to read it, it would be amazing if you reviewed to let me know what you thought :)**

Who was I, again?

It was hard to remember these days. It was happening all over again but my brain had barely processed it. It felt like a dream but soon I'd have to wake up; it was actually happening. I was going back into the games. There was nothing I could do now, even if I wanted to.

But somehow… I didn't. It felt… right, somehow.

Volunteering myself for the Hunger Games was something that the old me would have done in a blink – I had no reason not to. Doing it now seemed like getting myself back to how I used to be. How I _should_ be. It helped my sanity.

Yet I was struggling to find the positives as I was dragged through the double doors into the Justice Building and thrown into a small, enclosed room, barely able to come to terms with my outburst. I really hadn't thought it out.

It got me out of my mopey state, I supposed, unable to find many other positives of the situation. _At least Enobaria won't have to go into the games. That's the main thing. _

The door to the room I was in suddenly burst open, which startled me. Who would be coming to visit me? Nobody had said goodbye before, no one cared. When I looked up I saw Enobaria standing with her hands by her sides, a mask of pure anger plastered onto her face.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, more confused than annoyed.

"More like what are _you_ doing here. Clove, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she growled.

My mouth opened slightly – that hadn't exactly been the reaction I'd been expecting.

"Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Enobaria's eyebrows rose in shock.

"Are you really going to be an asshole right now? We don't have long, dammit!"

I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling.

"Calm down. Fine, what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what was going through your mind when you just volunteered to take my place in the Quarter Quell!"

I glared at her for a moment or two.

"What do you think?"

She knew I was worried (_understatement_) for Cato. Obviously.

Enobaria slapped her palm against her forehead in what seemed like exasperation.

"Dammit, Clove. I really hoped you were smarter than that."

I ignored her jabbering, not regretting my decision one bit any more.

"Why are you mad? I just stopped your possible death. You're welcome."

She growled just slightly under her breath, nostrils flaring. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

In that second, the door of the room was flung backwards as a peacekeeper marched in, grabbing Enobaria by the arm and yanking her out.

"Stay alive, Clove," she snapped just before she left. I sighed, turning around but heard her barely audible breath just before the door snapped shut. "Thank you."

Despite mainly volunteering for selfish reasons, like not being physically able to watch Cato go into the games without me there to watch over him, I couldn't think of anyone else that I'd rather replace in the games. Sure, Enobaria and I may have not always got on but recently I'd been starting to see her a lot more clearly.

"Time to go," the Peacekeeper barked at me gesturing for me to leave the room just as Enobaria had.

And that was it. Nothing special happened, nothing out of the ordinary. It was exactly the same process as it had been the first time around except that this time I was oddly relaxed instead of trembling nervously. I didn't see anyone else, I just left. All it took was the same short, nauseating car ride and then I was being loaded onto the train and greeted by Rondula and my new mentor, a middle-aged woman named Sapphire. She had waist-length white-blonde hair, a pale complexion and hard eyes. I recognised her briefly from District 2 but didn't know her all that well. Last year, Cato and I had shared Enobaria as a mentor; there had no reason for us not to as we already knew we'd be working as a team in the arena. This time, though, Cato had requested his own and I was stuck with this pathetic excuse for a mentor.

"You know how all this works, I suppose," Sapphire commented as I brushed past her in a hurry to hide away in the privacy of my room before Cato appeared.

I stared at her with fierce eyes, not bothering to answer. I mean, what a stupid thing to say. Of course I knew how the hell it worked, was she mentally handicapped or something? I could already tell she was going to be absolutely no use at all. I snarled, walking off down the gleaming clean train corridor, taking only a second to appreciate the Capitol glory that surrounded me. It never got old.

"Don't break anything!" Rondula called after me in her high-pitched drawl.

I didn't answer her either, already deciding not to speak a word to her the entire duration of my stay in the Capitol, including the journey there. I was still furious with her for refusing to help me in my hour of need the stupid, stuck-up, selfish-

"Bitch," a deep, male voice muttered, just on the other side of the wall from me. I recognised that voice more than anyone's; heck, more than my own. There was the distinct sound of clomping footsteps getting slowly and slowly closer to where I was now frozen in the hallway.

_What are you doing_? I demanded, ordering my legs to move, ducking into the nearest room and pulling the door back until it was nearly shut. I crouched down on the floor and peeped out the slight fraction of a gap leading to the corridor outside. I held my breath as Cato strolled past, muttering and grumbling about who I could only guess was Rondula. His musky scent wafted through the teeny gap in the door as he passed, making my heart stutter and flutter and react in all kinds of odd ways.

"Get a grip," I hissed, getting to my feet and popping my head out of the door just to ensure that he had definitely passed. No sign of anyone left or right up and down the long, winding space. I breathed out in relief, stepping out of the small, stuffy, store cupboard and swallowing.

"We're on the same train together. After all this time, we're actually in the same space," I whispered slightly shakily.

I snapped out of it almost immediately though, making my way hastily to my temporary bedroom, flinging the door open and practically running in. A bit of alone time was just what I needed.

I collapsed onto the bed, face first wondering if I suffocated right here, right now, anyone would notice. Doubtful.

I stayed in my 'bedroom' for the whole night; I didn't even bother leaving when Rondula called me to dinner despite my protesting stomach. I wondered if Cato had gone to dinner either but came to the conclusion that he probably couldn't cope with the horrendous people out there any more than I could. It had been fairly late when we'd boarded the train so I decided it was early enough to go to bed, falling asleep almost instantly as the exhausting day's events suddenly took toll on me. My head spun, even in unconsciousness; dreaming of arenas, weapons, tributes, game plans and definitely _not_ the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy who occupied a cramped room similar to mine just down the hall.

The train ride only lasted one draining night, thank God. I didn't bump into Cato or Rondula or Sapphire or anyone else for that matter as I stayed cooped up in my room, twiddling my knives around in boredom. The only time I ever left was to scavenge for some food.

The next day brought… awkwardness, among other things.

We arrived in the Capitol much to my utter joy, and were lead straight to our old training quarters. I dove into my room, again grateful to escape the idiots that surrounded me, and couldn't help but smile slightly. It was funny – I felt like I'd been here so often now it was practically a second home to me. The large double bed that occupied the centre of the room smelt like Cato and I all mixed into one, the pale, cream curtains had the same obnoxious lace fringe that drove me insane, the wooden door still had the tiny indent where I'd once thrown a knife at it. That all seemed like so long ago. Last time I'd been here I was…happy. Or close enough, anyway.

But I had to leave my room sometimes. I hadn't really considered how hard it would be to occupy the same living space as Cato without bumping into him from time to time and avoiding him was practically impossible. Every time I turned a corner and saw his broad, godly frame approaching I would sharply spin around and change my course, attempting to look at least semi-sane. I wasn't fooling anyone. I avoided walking around much, staying cooped up in my room for hours on end or sitting in one of the communal living spaces with Rondula, Sapphire and Oryan (Cato's mentor), although not speaking to a single one of them unless they directly addressed me.

Then, around mid-afternoon on our day of arrival, there came a time when we simply had to be in the same space together, as the large living room type area was the only place that had a television in this retched place and we had to watch the reaping repeats. My eagerness to find out who I'd be up against in this year's arena was overridden entirely by my jittery nerves in anticipation of being so close to Cato. I slotted myself into a tiny, overstuffed chair in one far corner of the room, Rondula taking a seat next to me much to my utter distaste.

"Could you not-" I began but then Cato entered and my voice got caught in my throat.

He walked with a sense of authority; arms swinging by his sides as if her were at complete ease with the whole situation. Perhaps he was. I kept telling myself to focus on the screen even though the repeats hadn't started yet, just to look at _anything_ other than his face. Of course, my eyes had other ideas trailing across his flawless face, noticing how his oceanic eyes had slightly lost their sparkle, how his tan skin had lightened to a more pale state and they definitely snagged on the dark purple bruise-like shadows under his eyes indicating a worrying lack of sleep. The sun-highlighted honey streaks in his hair had faded to a flat, dull yellow and tufts of it stuck up in all kinds of crazy directions. Had he been like this at the reaping and I was just too awe-struck to notice? Or had being picked to go back to the arena affected him this badly? I couldn't quite tell.

Cato sat down heavily in the armchair furthest away from me, crossing his arms across his chest, highlighting the menacing muscle that lied beneath his long-sleeved grey shirt. I wasn't sure if I was just my slightly dizzy head and blurry vision but I could have sworn his fingers were trembling ever so slightly, a fine sheen of sweat glazed over his face. What was wrong, was he sick? He sure as hell looked it.

Suddenly his gaze darted to me cobra-fast, and, despite my intentions to turn away sharpish and pretend I hadn't been starring, his eyes seemed to lock mine into place as if he was trapping me with some kind of invisible force. If eyes are windows to the soul, he must have had a pretty bleak soul, for all I saw when I stared deeply into his liquid blue eyes was dark misery and despair - it seemed endless. He snapped his stare away from me and to the TV screen after not much longer and I mirrored him, pulsating with energy from the intensity of our eye contact. I used to look at him every single day, so why did it feel so alien to me as if I'd never seen him properly before? Well, the answer to that was obvious.

My thoughts were interrupted then as the repeats began, first showing District 1 where a pair of blonde, affluent looking people named Cashmere and Gloss stepped up to the stage, smiling elatedly. Next was our reaping which I tried not to watch in too much detail as Enobaria was called up and I stepped in her place. It only made me question whether I'd actually made the right decision. Then District 3, Wiress and Beetee I believe their names were, followed by District 4 – an elderly woman and the legendary Finnick Odair. _Okay_, I noted to myself,_ nobody looks particularly hard to kill so far. In fact, just the opposite – you could take them all out singlehandedly. Well, except for Odair. _He was the only one who registered in my mind as a minor threat. After that came all the other Districts through until twelve. I only remembered the faces and names that I was slightly concerned about coming across in the arena – the other pathetic people were easily ignored like Chaff from District 11 who only possessed one arm and Seeder his District partner was practically an old woman. They'd be no match for me. Those who stuck in my mind were the likes of District 7 and possibly 1. District 12 was laughable, they only had an old drunk named Haymitch Abernathy – no female victor was left alive. I doubt they even had one, I'd never come across a more pathetic District.

After watching the reaping repeats I felt… oddly better. It was clear that Cato and I would have the best advantage having just won the games – we were at our physical best and were mostly likely the fittest pair out of them all.

The second the programme had ended, Cato got to his feet loudly, huffing and stomping out down the hallway.

Rondula sighed, rolling her eyes, not bothering to even ask how we felt about our soon-to-be opponents.

"That boy. I swear I'm going to have to do something about his attitude someday soon-"

"Just shut the hell up, will you?" I snapped, breaking my rule of not talking to her. Oh well.

I followed Cato's lead, getting up furiously and storming out the room, although in the opposite direction the route he took. I ended up back in my room, thinking through the other tributes I'd be up against this time around. Although there were a few who were

old and frail and easy to beat… this time there were no scared little children, no tiny twelve year olds who didn't have a clue about fighting. These were mature adults, fiercely trained and most likely pretty fearless considering that they'd all won the games in the past. I swallowed, trying not to think about how screwed I was and failing. For a second I wondered frantically what to do before realising that there was nothing I _could _do.

I went to bed that night making a promise to myself that whatever happened to me, however hard it was, I would make _sure_ that Cato got out alive.

Even if it was the last thing I did.

"Everybody up, we need to get ready!" Rondula cried ecstatically from the hallway just outside my door, thumping on the wood.

"Go away," I grumbled, pressing my face against the pillow beneath me and attempting to disappear completely.

"Come on!" she pressed, wondering away in her clippy-cloppy heels. The sound hammered through my only semi-conscious brain.

"Ugghhhhhhh," I groaned, rolling out of the bed and practically dropping on to the floor.

Was it morning already?

I frowned considering the day's events to come. The tribute parade. Oh, how I loved it. I got to be presented all of the Capitol citizens, dressed up like a doll and shown off as if I was worth nothing more than a toy while they considered whether I was worth betting on, before having to face Snow wishing me a cheery 'good luck' in the deadly games that he insisted on holding every single year. Great. It also meant Cato and I together in a confined space… yet again. It wouldn't be like the day before though, when there had been bundles of other people in the room to separate us and the repeaing repeats to stop us from being too distracted by each other. No, this time it was just us and the crowd. Not to mention the cameras that would be focussed directly on us, anticipating our reactions. I honestly wasn't sure what I found scarier; this or the upcoming games.

"Are you up yet?" Rondula hollered, the thick impatience in her voice detectable even through the wall.

I didn't bother answering, simply stumbling across the room and swinging the door backwards in irritation.

"What?" I growled.

"Get dressed and meet me in the third room down the hall. Your prep team are waiting to get you all prepared for the tribute parade. Ooh, it's so exciting!" she chirped, grinning wildly and me, turning on her heel and disappearing.

I glowered at her retreating back. She was all in blue today; sapphire mini-dress, azure heels at least 6 inches high and a pair of violet-blue pigtails in her hair. She looked like some kind of psycho doll.

I marched back inside, grabbing the first items of clothing I found in the closet – a sky-blue tank top and grey sweat pants. Ew, I didn't think I could bring myself to wear the blue top for fear of looking too much like Rondula. I quickly switched it for a black one – a colour I found that you could never go wrong with. Besides, it wasn't like I'd be wearing it for long. I dragged out the process of getting dressed and tying my knotted, jet black hair up in a ponytail, shuffling down the hallway at the slowest pace I could manage. Saying that I dreaded being prodded and pampered in preparation for _any _Capitol event was something of an understatement.

When I eventually reached the room, I didn't bother knocking, simply grabbing the knob and shoving the door open.

The small room consisted of only a small dressing table and a cluster of chairs. The walls and ceiling were clinical white. Rondula stood in the centre, four or five other people who I didn't bother particularly looking at stood at the sides.

"Well finally," she huffed. "Garia and Lunarus will get started on your hair and make-up and then we'll get your outfit sorted."

I rolled my eyes, already knowing what I was in for, and taking a seat heavily. Rondula left the room in silence followed by two Capitol minions. Glancing up, I noticed Garia and Lunarus waiting for God knows what in the corner.

"Well?" I barked impatiently.

"Right, okay," Garia shrugged, dragging a chair behind me and placing herself into it, Lunarus mirroring her actions but taking my nails instead.

It took less than five seconds for the mindless babble to begin spewing out of their mouths. I sighed.

"I can't believe it's been a whole year already," Garia commented, shaking her head. "I suppose we did have the Victory Tour in between. Imagine how strange it's going to be having the past victors in the arena with you. Are you excited? I bet you are. How could you not be? It's so unusual; I can't wait to see what happens! So anyway, what have you been doing with yourself? Guess who's had a promotion since you've seen her last? Me!"

I was this close to taking out a knife and stabbing either her or myself right in the heart. Or maybe both of us.

I tried to tune her voice out, mostly unsuccessfully, focusing on the sharp tugging on my hair and the prodding at my face. I kept my mind off other subjects (and other people) in order to preserve my sanity.

After what felt like a very, very long while, they were finished and I was shown my reflection in the mirror. My face was completely flawless, any signs of sleep-deprivation entirely gone, and my dark hair had been left down for once, ruler straight and ultra-sleek. I wouldn't have thought it possible after seeing the knotty, matted mess that it had been just hours before.

"What do you think?" Lunarus cooed happily.

"It's great," I muttered, my tone expressionless. "What am I wearing?"

"Oh, we haven't even been allowed to see the big outfit yet. I can't _wait_!"

"I'll get Rondula," Garia told me, grabbing Lunarus by the hand and rocketing out of the door. Thank God.

I collapsed down on the seat I'd been in for the past few hours, shaking my head. I couldn't deal with much more of this, I really couldn't. At least last time I'd had Cato to make fun of the outfits with me, to complain to about having to be given completely new look each and every day. This time… it was harder. It was lonely.

The door to the small white room suddenly opened and an impressively tall but horrendously skinny man ambled in, a huge plastic bag hung over his arm. The man had shoulder-length red hair with streaks of blue and purple and was more lanky and bony than I'd ever seen a person before. His skin was pasty and pale, his lips outlined with some kind of blue pencil. He looked more like a clown than a person.

"Um, who are you?" I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

The Capitol resident, who looked more like a praying mantis than a man, stared at me for a moment or two as if I was some kind of disabled idiot, a disapproving look evident in his slit-like eyes.

"I'm your new stylist. I thought that would be obvious."

New stylist?

"But-"

"There's no time for questions, he snapped, clicking his fingers. "Don't you know what a rush we're in? Put this on. Now."

I looked at him in slight confusion.

"_Now_," he repeated, upper lip twitching.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," I muttered, walking over to where he'd place down the garment and unzipping the bag.

The piece of clothing that fell into my hands was not even remotely similar to anything I'd ever had designed for me before. It wasn't a dress for starters – it was a jump suit; sleeveless at the top, just the same as any regular vest and ending down at the ground like a pair of trousers. It was slate grey with tiny silver thread woven into the hems to add a tiny, subtle amount of Capitol sparkle. There was a row of coin sized silver gems woven along the low neckline; I supposed to represent the masonry of District 2. It actually wasn't so bad – it got better the longer I looked at it.

I changed quickly and looked in the mirror, twisting my neck to see it at a better angle. Hmm.

"This is actually… alright," I noted aloud.

"Alright? It's impeccable. Ineffable. It's _astounding_," my 'new stylist' replied. I realised that he'd never even given me his name, not that I cared much.

"Modest much?" I breathed, shaking my head slightly.

"It's perfect. You'll be the best dressed there, I promise you that. Now all you need to do is put these on and you're ready to go."

He handed me a pair of shiny black pumps which I slipped on obediently.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he murmured, leaving the room in a blink.

"Oh…kay?" It came out like a question. That guy was definitely weird. But that wasn't what was making me feel uneasy…

I stuck my head out of the room, catching Rondula as she was trotting past.

"Rondula, hey!" I called, gesturing for her to come over to where I was. I was breaking my rule of not speaking to her (again) but I didn't know who else to ask.

"Oh Clove, I_ love_ this look, it really suits you-" she started but I really didn't have time for her bullshit, a much more pressing issue on my mind.

"Yeah, yeah, you know I don't care," I sighed, getting to the point. "Rondula, who was that man?"

She looked puzzled for a second.

"Who, Maxwell? He's your new stylist. He's a sweetheart really."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Why do I have a new stylist, though? Where's Romairo?"

Rondula's pale blue lips parted ever so slightly, enough for me to tell that she was at least a little shocked.

"Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Tell me _what_?" I growled, growing tired of her idiocy.

She looked down, for some reason unable to return my gaze.

"Romairo was caught giving out confidential information by some peacekeepers," she explained, looking back up with raised eyebrows as if she knew I was to blame. "It's a shame really."

_Cato's phone number. _Oh shit.

"Oh, God. What happened? Did they put him in jail?"

Rondula's wide eyes met mine meaningfully. She opened her mouth a few times and shut it, taking a breath as if she didn't know how to phrase something. Just as I was about to scream at her to _spit it out_, she finally spoke in a low, troubled voice.

"Clove, Romairo was killed."


	9. Well that explains it

**A/N: OMG. Okay so you have complete and utter permission to kill me for taking so long to update. I am literally the worst ever and I will be surprised if there's even anyone left who reads this story. But anyway I am so so so so sorry this has taken longer than it was supposed to, I've had a load of mock exams this December at school and I was writing a 15000 word Alexbelle fic which was a Christmas project so I sort of dropped everything to finish that in time for Christmas. No excuse, I know, but there we go. I'm so awfully sorry and I really hope you don't all hate me now. I should be updating on time now and regularly again so yay for that. I hope you all had an amazing Christmas if you celebrate it and I really, really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks so much everyone! xo**

* * *

Romairo was dead and it was my fault.

I didn't really know how to react. My mind was telling me that I shouldn't waste time feeling bad about Capitol citizens, they had ridiculous, extravagant lives, they didn't deserve my sympathy. But then another side of me couldn't stop thinking about how Romario had always been there for me when I'd had no one else. He'd probably even known about the results of giving me Cato's number but did it anyway because of how desperate I was. I found it hard to process that he'd actually been killed, taken away and murdered, probably painfully. All because of something I'd asked him to do. All because I'd been too pathetic to move on from the boy who had rejected me time and time again.

And suddenly, I wasn't angry at myself so much. I pushed all of my grief aside, swapping it for pure hatred and anger. I blamed Cato.

If he hadn't have been such an absolute asshole and left me without so much as a bit of contact for six months, I wouldn't have needed his number in the first place. Then maybe Romairo would still be alive.

Tears stung in my eyes – tears of anger, tears of regret – but I had no time to shed them. I had no time to get angry at Cato or grieve over Romairo; I had the tribute parade to deal with first.

I didn't want to be around Rondula and her judgmental eyes, I didn't want to see Maxwell my new stylist who'd replaced Romario as if he'd never existed and I _certainly _didn't want to bump into Cato. There was still a bit of time before the opening ceremony so I made my way down to the lower floor to the Remake Centre – a gathering place for tributes and their chariots before the parade began. Everyone was standing in small groups and chatting as if they knew each other and it suddenly occurred to me that they probably _did_ know each other – I was the youngest tribute. I'd only just won the games myself – how was I expected to know any of the previous victors? Just as I started scanning the room to see who was there already, an irritating crunching sound alerted my attention and when I turned my head, a pair of mesmerizing, deep green eyes met mine.

"Hello Finnick," I greeted him before he could get a word out so that he knew who was in control of the conversation.

"Hello, Clove," he replied, seemingly completely at ease being in my presence, unlike a lot of other people. "Want a sugar cube?"

I frown at his unusual question and turn around to look at him properly. It was only then that I realised how little he was wearing.

"No, thanks. I've never much liked sweet things."

"I thought as much," he replied, leaning forwards and capturing a stray strand of my dark hair between his fingers. I wasn't uncomfortable around Finnick Odair, he didn't make me swoon like most other women. I simply found him odd. Why was he talking to me? "You know, it's a shame about this Quarter Quell thing. You only just got out of the arena and look at you now – going straight back into it."

"I can't really complain. I did volunteer to be here, after all."

Finnick tilted his head to one side like a puppy.

"Yes, you did, didn't you? Why was that? I can't figure out why you'd want to be back here again so soon."

I smirked, flicking my hair and looking up into his eyes.

"That's a secret. And secrets aren't told for free."

His mouth twitched up into a smile that mirrored mine.

"See that's what I always say but no one will listen to me," he purred, his voice low and seductive.

I opened my mouth to say something else, amused by everything Finnick was spouting to me, when heavy footsteps behind me made me dart my eyes to the side, only to see Cato standing there in a similar outfit to mine and a mask of rage plastered over his face.

"What do you want, Odair?" he snarled, approaching Finnick and I.

Finnick raised his hands in the air, taking a step backwards.

"Just chatting with Clove. Such a charming District partner you have."

And with that he turned and strolled away, turning to wink at me as he did so. I shook my head slightly with a grin before remembering that Cato was stood next to me. The amusement drained off of my face immediately, replaced my bitter anger. I took one revolted glance at Cato and walked off to our chariot, crossing my arms in anger. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? How dare he have the cheek to be angry at Finnick for talking to me when he was the one who'd ripped my bleeding heart from my chest and trampled on it until all that remained was a puddle of a broken me. Metaphorically, of course.

Then it was time to begin.

The ceremony didn't last long and was identical to the one I'd attended the year before, not including the people. I kept an eye out for the tributes that I'd already chosen as dangers – Cashmere and Gloss, Johanna Mason. Finnick Odair glanced at me as all twelve chariots circled the area but I couldn't bring myself to react. I didn't talk to Rondula, Sapphire, Oryan, Garia or Lunarus before and I didn't talk to Cato during. I didn't talk to anyone. I had nothing to say. I just got it done with gritted teeth, praying for the moment when it would be over and I could escape to the privacy of my room again.

Despite dreading this for as long as I could remember, knowing I'd be so close to Cato after all this time, it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined. I didn't feel the electric current pulsating through my veins as I had every time I'd been within a mile of Cato lately, even though we were standing right next to each other in our chariot, our arms almost touching. He wore a hard, unreadable mask as he waved to the screaming crowds and I was sure my face was the same. I was irate, I was distraught, I was at my wits end. If there was one thing I wasn't, though, it was the madly in love teen I'd been acting as recently. I looked at Cato's face and somehow I hated him. He'd done this to me. He'd done this to Romairo. He'd ruined everything. It was as if I were feeling the fury I should have been feeling after he'd traded me for a Capitol slut; it was just coming a little late. By the time the parade had finished, I couldn't even look at his face.

I made my way back to the training quarters, careful to avoid everyone. The interviews were the next day but I wasn't entirely sure that I could face them just yet, not that I'd have a choice. There was such a hurricane of emotion swirling around in my mind, it was hard to focus on anything else.

I slept – just about. I remained awake for the majority of the night, Romairo's kind face and dark hair in my mind as I tried to remember my last words to him, coming up blank. It was a new sensation for me, this… guilt. A year ago, I wouldn't have given a second thought to someone who'd died with me responsible. But now… everything had changed.

I woke up in the morning feeling unrested and crappy, the claggy light beaming through my window emphasising my dark mood. Today I'd have to put on a huge act for the sake of the Capitol, yet again. It was becoming somewhat of a routine.

I closed my eyes momentarily, breathing in the air around me and coughing unintentionally. Everything smelt so artificial here. I missed the warmth of District 2, the distinct scent of rustic metal and newly polished chrome, crumbling rocks and dusty worktops where the masons stayed. The smell of home – not my new, Capitol house in the Victors Village – my old home, cosy and light, Cato's musky wood-smoke scent lingering on every surface…

Instead, here, everywhere I turned I was faced with flowers and perfume and all kinds of overwhelming things. It was infectious.

I snapped out of it, jumping to my feet and unclosing my eyes. I didn't have time to be sentimental and stupid; I had interviews to prepare for. And, I never thought I'd be hoping for this, but a part of me wished that Enobaria was still my mentor so I could ask her for advice. Instead I had Sapphire who was of no use to me at all. She treated me like I was twelve years old and uneducated.

It wasn't as if I _needed_ advice, I didn't need anything from anyone, it was just… I wasn't entirely sure what I should be saying in my interview. Caesar would ask me why I volunteered, that was a given. But I still have no idea. Or at least no reason that I could say without sounding crazy. Then there was the not-so-straightforward relationship between Cato and I that I'd probably have to explain. My interview was before Cato's so I'd have to do it completely based off of my thoughts, which… may not be best idea. My head was all over the place.

I sighed, getting up and donning the first clothes that I grabbed a hold of in my vast wardrobe. I slowly made my way to the third room down the hall, which had been assigned my official prep room, it would seem. I didn't stop for breakfast on the way. It probably wasn't very clever, given my nerves, but I couldn't bring myself to eat any Capitol food at that moment. It was too… sickly.

I walked into the small room with a huff, marching towards the big table in the centre and only stopping short when I rounded the corner and nearly crashed straight into Cato's huge frame. I jumped a massive step backwards to allow some space between us at the same time that he did the same. Shit, what was he doing in here?

I just stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before remembering what an utter _asshole_ he had been to me. My eyes narrowed slightly as I crossed my arms across my chest – my automatic defensive stance.

"What are you doing in here?"

Cato's eyebrows rose slightly as if he was surprised that I'd spoken to him. Well what did he expect?

"Uh – well I wanted to have a word with Maxwell, I didn't know you'd be here…" his voice was so quiet and unconfident that for a second, just a fraction of a second, my expression softened and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. This was nothing like the Cato that I knew. His tone was scratchy, his eyes hollow and empty. He looked defeated. And the games hadn't even begun yet.

Good Lord. It was a good thing that I volunteered then. I may have hated him with all my guts but there was still a part of me, that I was pretty sure would never leave, that was always going to be in love with every bone in his body. I inwardly sighed at my confused feelings.

"I don't know where he is," I told him truthfully, avoiding my eyes and speaking in a less harsh tone than I had been doing before.

Cato continued to look at me, his expression pained. I don't know what he was looking for.

"You-" he started in an unsure voice but caught himself and stopped, letting silence fall over us briefly like a protective blanket.

"I what?" I demanded, not about to let him leave me hanging like that.

He looked at his feet, breathing in and out so loudly that even I could hear it where I stood across from him. His hands were at his sides and, for the first time I'd seen him in a while, they weren't balled up into fists, his muscles weren't tensed. His arms just hung limply.

_This is really not good. _

"You know, don't you?"

"I know what?" I asked sounding like a complete idiot. What the heck was he on about now. _Maybe he really has gone mental. _

"You know… about me, right? That's why you've been so angry."

I know what about him? I really hadn't got the foggiest idea what he was talking about.

"_No_, I've been so angry because Romario was killed and it was my fault. Well, you're fault."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Romairo's dead? How could that have been your fault? Or _my_ fault? And wait, so you _don't_ know about me?"

I rolled my eyes for a second at his questions. It was extremely odd to be having this conversation with him as if nothing had ever happened between us. We hadn't spoken in… how long? Anyway, it was very, very strange – though I tried not to show it.

"It was a long time ago now… I forced Romairo to… to get me your phone number." I winced at how pathetic I sounded.

"My phone number," Cato repeated dumbfounded.

"Yes. And then he was caught my peacekeepers and prosecuted because it was confidential Capitol information," I explained, trying not to go into too much detail. "He was killed."

"He gave you my phone number," he parroted again. I was tempted to slap him but, luckily, found some self-restraint.

"_Yes_. I phoned you one time."

He shook his head adamantly.

"I never spoke to you."

"I didn't _say_ you spoke to me. I-I hung up."

"What? When Romairo had gone to all that effort to get you my number? But… _why_?"

I arched my eyebrows a little and glared at him in silence, waiting for him to catch on. It took a little longer than I would have hoped but finally, his eyes grew very wide and his mouth hung open just a little.

"You… that was _you_ that time," he gaped.

I nodded once, remaining mute. I couldn't help the sound of his girlfriend's voice drifting back into my head. '_Come back to bed_'. Bad, bad memories of that day threatened to come flooding back but I managed to stop them, using all the willpower I had left. I was _not_ about to let him see how much he'd crushed me.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"Yeah," I nodded in agreement, unsure of what else to say.

"Clove, it's not-"

My heart lurched a little when I heard my name emit his lips but I cut him off all the same.

"Don't. Please don't even try to explain because I really don't care anymore. It happened, it's over. What you choose to do with your time is really none of my business. What I do want to know, though, is what you're going on about that I supposedly know. Which I obviously don't."

He looked at me with such confusion that he almost looked like a child again. He almost looked like… my Cato.

"I can't," he breathed, shoving past me and practically running out of the room without another word.

"Wait!" I shouted at his retreating back but, of course, he didn't. "For goodness sake," I muttered under my breath.

I turned to the huge table in the centre of the room that had piles of various objects stacked upon it fuming. How dare he not tell me? I'd told him everything he'd asked.

A crash behind me that sounded like the door being smashed open caused me to spin around in a flash, Cato's name already forming on my lips. Instead, I was presented with Rondula dressed in a floor length hot pink satin gown and elbow length rose-coloured gloves. Just your average Capitol outfit. I swallowed my words.

Rondula took one glance at me and let out a tiny strangled shriek.

"_Why are you not dressed yet?" _she squealed."You know it's interview day!"

I stood with my shoulders back, giving her the most pissed off scowl I could manage.

She ignored me as per usual.

"Your dress is on the table. _Hurry_ _up_."

She turned and left and I kicked the door after her, leaving a large indent on the perfect white-painted, wooden frame. Good.

The large bag on the table appeared to be a garment bag so I unzipped it to see what I'd be forced to wear today. The dress was deep ruby with black detail. I didn't bother looking at it too closely as I threw it on, flinching as Garia and Lunarus burst in and began on my hair and make-up.

I was usually able to zone out of this process but not today – my interview nerves making me too hyped up to concentrate on anything properly. Part of me was happy that Cato and I had been speaking again – it was a good thing, right? It meant that maybe there was more of a chance of us going back to how we were before…

But those thoughts were dangerous. I tried to bear in mind what we had been talking _about_. There was zero chance of us getting back together. He'd moved on. I shouldn't want to get back with him, anyway, not after what he'd done to me.

Love was irrational. And I was no exception to that rule.

My prep team were finished after a short while and Rondula reappeared in her blindingly bright and colourful glory to collect me.

"I'm not an infant, you know," I informed her when she arrived. "I'm capable of getting to the interview stage myself."

"I know you're capable Clove. I'd just rather be with you so you can't get yourself into any trouble. Starting fights with other tributes, it's just plain rude."

"I wouldn't start fights with other tributes!" I denied, my tone upping a few octaves.

"Oh, really?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

I was about to protest further but then I caught on to what she was talking about_. Oh_. Before the 74th Hunger Games, during training, the blonde from one had been _all over_ Cato. So, naturally, I'd 'accidentally' missed my target and skimmed her arm with a knife. She was asking for it. What had been even more annoying though, was how I'd then been told that I would have to _ally_ with her. I shuddered at the memories.

"Glimmer," I sighed. "Okay, fine but I'd hardly call that starting a _fight_, I just-"

"What about the District 4 boy you bullied into moving to a different training station because he was almost as good as you?" Rondula asked me a smirk in her tone. I was surprised how much she remembered of last years Hunger Games, considering that she was a self-obsessed fluff-head.

"He was _not_ almost as good as me."

When she didn't answer I rolled my eyes but there was a small smile on my lips.

"Okay, fine, I won't start any fights."

It was the truth, though. I didn't really have the energy these days. I thought back to the person I used to be and realised how much I'd changed over the past year. Matured. I wasn't sure how I felt about it yet.

"Well good," Rondula nodded with a tinkling laugh.

We continued to meander through the corridors and doorways until we reached the back entrance to the stage in which Casesar Flickerman occupied.

"Are you going to be alright, Clove?" Rondula asked me, her tone suddenly kind. Well that was a first.

"Of course. When am I not, right?" I attempted a weak laugh but it was mostly a failure that I was pretty sure Rondula saw straight through.

"Okay, well. I'll be waiting here for when you come off stage," she informed me.

There was only ten minutes until the interviews began and the line of tributes was already forming in the left wing of the stage. The bright colours and glittering diamonds from everyone's Capitol-happy outfits was enough to give me a dizzy head. I nodded absently as Rondula left, noticing Johanna Mason, the girl from 7, whose eyes kept flickering in my direction, very unsubtly sending me warning glares. I just smirked, sauntering past her and into my place in the line. She didn't scare me one bit. I may have her on my list of people to watch out for in the arena but I wasn't about to let her know that.

I waited with my arms folded and my lips pursed as Caesar entered the stage and the interviews slowly began. Caesar had changed from blue to lavender this year; hair, eyebrows, eyelids, lips, everything. The orange skin and pearly white teeth remained, though, ensuring that he kept up his reputation as brightly-coloured fool. The crowd was deafening as always; something I wasn't looking forward to.

Cashmere went on stage first, as routinely as every other year, her golden locks swaying around her tiny waist. I had no idea how she had ever become a victor of the Hunger Games – I could defeat her with a hand tied behind my back. As she began talking, it became clear that her mentor had either instructed for her to play the idiot – either that or she really was just a dumb blonde. Make that two hands tied behind my back.

Her brother Gloss was on next and by the time his interview started, I was beginning to get nervous. Cato wasn't here. Still. I had expected him to show up once the show had begun but there was still no sign. I tried to ignore that and concentrate on my answers, unsuccessfully.

"And now," Casear's voice bellowed as Gloss exited the stage, sneering crookedly at me as he passed, "you'll know our next tribute from last years Hunger Games! She swept all of Panem, who could resist the lovely Clove from District 2?!"

I took that as my cue to enter, hopping up the steps and slowly making my way to the interview chair, smiling at Caesar as I did so with just a hint of malice. I swallowed hard as it occurred to me that the last couple of times I'd been in this chair Cato had been sat closely beside me.

There was a lot of cheering from the audience when I entered but I couldn't miss the occasional groaning or glaring eyes at me. Ha. Of course, the whole of Panem had heard about my break up with Cato and many of the Capitol women hated me for 'breaking his heart'. I found it hilarious that they were so in love with him when they didn't know anything about him. I doubted Capitol citizens were capable of love, anyway.

"Ah, Clove, so nice to see you again," Casear greeted me, taking his own seat and crossing his legs into a more relaxed position.

I remained sitting upright with a straight back and entwined fingers – it helped me stay alert.

"Likewise, I'm sure," I muttered.

"So how have you been since I saw you last? Enjoying being a victor?" he was so animated and happy it made me sick.

"Absolutely," I answered, smiling tightly.

Caesar shifted in his seat and I could tell that the important questions would begin any second now.

"Glad to hear it. Now, you volunteered to be in this years Hunger Games, care to tell us why?"

He leaned forward, floral scent almost making me choke.

"Not particularly," I told him, not even bothering to pretend to smile this time.

Caesar surprised me by letting out a roar of laughter; the audience mimicking him like a roomful of colourful parrots.

"I see," he grinned, resting his chin on one hand. "So how do you think this year will be different from the 74th Hunger Games, for you personally? How are you feeling about going back into the arena?"

"It will be exactly the same. Whatever the gamemakers decide to throw at me, I'm ready for it. I won this just a year ago – I'm the most prepared for this because my mind-set never switched off from arena-mode. It feels like I never left."

Caesar nodded as I spoke, obviously approving my answer.

"That's what we like to hear!" The crowd screamed, I winced. "I'd like to talk about something else though, if you wouldn't mind. You and your District partner seemed quite the couple when I spoke to you last. You allied with him closely in the 74th Hunger Games, correct?"

I grew just a tad stiffer though I wasn't sure why. I'd been expecting this.

"Yes."

"And you won together?"

He already that was true.

"We did."

"So what happened to ruin your happy ending?"

Suddenly, my eyes stung just a little but there was _no way in hell_ I was about to cry live on TV. The whole of District 2 would be watching. It was just… the way he'd worded it.

I shrugged as blasé as I could manage.

"He slowed me down," I sniffed. "Why would I stay with someone I don't need?" Cato would be hating this, if he was even bothering to watch. Not that I cared. "I used him to help me win the games and allowed myself to grow attached. I see now that it was pointless, though. I've always been better off alone."

The bitterness in my tone was obvious but I struggled to cover it up any more.

"I see you're doing fine without him so good on you!" Caesar replied, probably trying to lighten the mood although it had no effect. Well, no effect on me, anyway.

In fact it just made me worse because my thoughts were suddenly screaming at him. _If only you knew. I'm not doing fine without him. I need him, you fool. I need him._

"Thanks," I mumble, unable to find my voice all of a sudden.

"Well, it seems that there's little else to say. Your confidence never falters Clove, and for that I truly admire you," I had to fight to control rolling my eyes at his blatant bullshit. "As always, it's been a pleasure to speak with you and I can only wish you the very best of luck in the arena this year!"

I forced a smile on to my face and stood up to shake his hand before strolling off of the stage. Well, that hadn't been so bad. I let out a huge breath simply because I'd got it done. The interviews and preparation for the games were almost as bad as the real thing in my eyes.

As I approached the wing where the remainder of the tributes stood, waiting, I saw Cato standing with his arms folded at the front of the line. At first, a rush of relief flooded over me – thank God he'd actually turned up to his interview instead of making us both look like idiots. But then, as I passed him and got a good look at his scowling face, I suddenly remembered what I'd said about him in my interview. Oops. I felt his vicious eyes on my back as I walked past him, the anger rolling off of him in waves, even less subtle than Caesar's purple hair.

Technically, we were allowed to leave after our interview was finished – I could go and meet Rondula and return to my room and go to sleep and try to strategize for the games, I could do something _useful_. Yet, despite the logic in my head, my feet refused to move in the right direction, instead dragging me closer to the stage edge as Cato was called up. He moved with authority, grace even, but his muscles were tensed beneath his shirt. As I lingered at the entrance to the vast room of people, my attention was suddenly drawn away from Cato's figure as the brightly coloured women in the front row of the audience spoke between one another I couldn't fail to be distracted by their high-pitched accents. They were completely unaware of my presence, it would seem. Each woman wasn't talking loudly and the cheering of the audience drowned them out slightly but I was just so close to them that I was able to catch almost every word.

"Who's this?" one asked wonderingly, nodding at the stage in front of them.

The second woman beamed brightly, a faint blush forming in her pale cheeks.

"That's _Cato_. I had him the other night, barely cost me anything! Definitely worth the money, you should try him some time."

"Ooh, really? I've been looking for a good one," came the reply.

I stumbled back a few steps without meaning to.

Then found myself running, running faster than I ever had before towards the training quarters, desperate to get away from the people surrounding me. All at once I felt so sick to my stomach that I was barely able to stand up straight. As soon as I reached my room I slammed the door shut and sunk to the floor, reality hitting me _hard_. It felt like there was a knife lodged in my throat as I struggled to breathe in and out without choking.

And so the truth comes out. That was why Cato had left me, that was the job he had to do in the Capitol, that was why I heard that female voice on the phone. That was what he was scared I'd found out. Cato hadn't left me for someone else.

He was a Capitol prostitute.

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**A/N: I know some of you already guessed that was going to happen but for those who didn't figure it out, what do you think? Now we know why he left Clove the story will get much more interesting… (I hope) :) Please, please let me know if you liked this chapter and I always love hearing your theories for what's going to happen next! xo**


	10. Making Friends

**A/N: Hey everyone! It's so exciting that people are actually bothering to read this horrible story it means a lot! I read all the reviews and they make my day so much better so please let me know your thoughts on this chapter :) Enjoy! And Happy New Year!  
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Cato walks ahead of me, just a couple of steps but enough that I'm getting left behind. I glance around, suddenly completely unaware of my surroundings. We're in a dark street, darker than dark; there are no streetlights, no other people. It's deserted and black and even though Cato's tall body is in my sights, for the first time in years, I'm scared. I can't tell where I'm going; I just follow Cato's lead, hoping he knows where this path is taking us. There isn't a single sound but my heavy breathing, even Cato is mute, and it makes me even more nervous.

"Where are we going?" I breathe, afraid that if my voice rises above a whisper something terrible will happen.

Cato turns around a huge grin spread across his face.

"Where do you think, Clove? You wanted to find out more about me. This is me showing you."

I shake my head, even more confused than before but before I can ask him a single question a beam of white light appears, momentarily blinding me and ahead I see a building – tall and awfully bright, bustling with people and booming with noise.

"What is that?" I ask, again more quiet than I thought I was capable of being, though Cato seems to hear me fine.

Suddenly, a huge group of people flood out of the main door of the building, heading towards Cato and I, every one of them either talking elatedly or throwing their heads back in laughter. They were Capitol people – you could tell from the ridiculously bright clothing and extravagant head dresses, the 10 inch heels and glittered faces.

"These are my friends," Cato tells me, still beaming.

The group of people are right by us now painfully loud and irritatingly bright. I notice that every single one of them is a woman, and every single one of them is stunningly beautiful. Busty blondes with perfectly coloured red lips, exotic hybrids with hair as dark as mine and glimmering eyes that told secrets, long-legged red-heads with cinnamon freckles and gleaming teeth. I suddenly want to scream and run away from these people who Cato seems so close with but I can't bring myself to move.

Every single woman from the group is attached to Cato in some way; stroking his hair, caressing his face, rubbing his back… I turn away in disgust.

When I turn back there's a new face, someone who wasn't there before. Tendrils of sunshine blonde hair frame her face perfectly, emphasising the flawless radiance to her skin. She isn't dressed like the others, no fancy clothes and colours, just a normal outfit, similar to mine. Her smooth, rosy lips part as if she's about to speak but no words come out, she just stands staring at me with emotionless eyes.

It's Glimmer.

"Come here, gorgeous," Cato's voice bellows and his arm shoots out to grab her and pull her close to him.

Glimmer's eyes flash to mine and for just a second I see fear and longing buried deep within them.

"Let her go," I instruct Cato but my voice comes out ten times quieter than I'd hoped. "Can't you see she doesn't want to?"

Cato's laughs at me, squeezing Glimmer closer.

"Of course she does! Everyone wants to." Suddenly his tone lowers and his feral eyes focus on me just a couple of meters away from him. "Even you."

Then he lunges for my chest.

I choked hard on my breath but made an effort not to scream as I leapt up in bed, my eyes snapping open.

"Shit," I gasped, placing a hand on my heart to calm down my pounding chest. "_Shit_."

The light from the room burned my eyes as I realised that I never turned it off yesterday. I had just sort of… collapsed on to the bed and fell asleep.

Well. What a pleasant dream.

I shook my head, and stepped out of bed dizzily. The truth about Cato still hadn't properly registered in my mind and I doubted would any time soon. I slowly made my way to the bathroom where I decided to take a shower to clear my head, peeling off my sweaty clothes in relief. I didn't want to think about Cato and his hundreds of 'friends', I didn't want to think about the things he'd done when he'd been alone in the Capitol – scratch that, I _couldn't_ think about it. Instead, I focused on the stream of water from the shower burning my body into numbness and the activities to come in the day ahead. It was the first day of training. Great.

After my shower I opened the colossus of a closet in my room and fished out the training outfit that Maxwell had left for me. It smelt of cleaning liquid and lemons.

I threw it on and tied my hair back into a ponytail. This was going to be an interesting experience. I suddenly felt nervous to go to breakfast – scared of seeing Cato again and having my hideous nightmare come flooding back. Last night they'd watched the Tribute Parade repeats without me – I'd refused to come out of my room. I knew Rondula was getting worried.

I gingerly made my way to the dining area, careful to avoid everyone. I paused when I saw the food laid upon the table; glistening cherry tarts, warm buttered rolls, crumbling pastries that dripped with blizzards of snowy white icing. I hadn't eaten in… I couldn't remember how long. _It doesn't matter, _I ordered myself, strolling past the table and into the back room.

The training session would be starting in about half an hour. My mind spun at the thought, though I wasn't quite sure why. I went to training almost every day of my life, what would make this so different?

Sapphire walked into the small room I was seated in at that moment. Her white-blonde hair had been wrapped into a bun on the top of her head, making her look even stupider than usual. I scowled.

"What do you want?"

"Just here for a chat," she told me happily, perching on a chair beside me and taking in my probably pale skin and sleep-deprived eyes. Whatever. I didn't have to impress her. "Look, I get that you don't like me-"

"Really?" I cut her off angrily. "Because you still seem to be here talking to me."

Sapphire rolled her eyes and sighed heavily like I was a small child that needed telling off. My nostrils flared.

"I'm here to help. You have training soon."

"Thanks, I never knew," I breathed sarcastically.

"You have to be aware of what it's going to be like," she continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"I think I know what it's going to be like a little better than you. I _was_ here last year."

She frowned.

"You think you know."

I got up to leave but paused when she continued talking.

"Just listen to what I have to say. You're the youngest in the arena this year. They'll go for you first, you have to be prepared."

"Why would they go for me first?" I retorted. "What about-"

"The elderly? The crippled? They'll be targets, too. You can't forget how vulnerable you must seem in their eyes-"

"I am not weak."

"Yes, but that doesn't matter to them, Clove. These other tributes, they're used to winning, just as you are. They'll take one look at your size, your age and label you that way."

I breathed out through my mouth, trying to calm down.

"What can I do then?" I demanded, tensing my muscles. I couldn't believe I was actually asking for help from _Sapphire_.

"Just, make some friends, ally with people who will be able to help you. Show them what you can do in training. They may not have all seen your skills in the arena last year – make _sure_ they know how good you are."

I pursed my lips, attempting to find an argument and failing. What she'd said sounded fairly simple and logical, as well.

"Fine."

"Just don't_… try_ not to kill anyone," she requested, a tiny smile in her voice. I didn't smile back but rolled my eyes as she stood up. "I'll be here later, then. Good luck."

I nodded as Sapphire exited the room, rubbing my temples to soothe my pounding nerves. I felt slightly dizzy, though I couldn't quite work out why. Training came as a second nature to me but today if felt a heck of a lot scarier than I was used to it being back in District 2. Instead of the fearsome leader, I was being looked down upon like one of the twelve year olds in my knife-throwing class. I suddenly had to fight the urge to throw up. I glanced at the square clock hung upon the wall and swallowed – I had to leave now or I'd be late.

As I was on my way to the training quarters' elevator, I froze just for a moment as I saw Cato stood at the end of a corridor off to my left, arms folded in annoyance. His mentor Oryan was standing beside him speaking in a rushed, quiet tone. Training advice, most likely. My mouth hung open just a fraction wider at the sight of him – it was the first time I'd seen him since discovering the truth and… he just seemed so different in my eyes now. I couldn't believe what he'd done. I couldn't even picture it at first – Cato was wary around people he didn't know, he didn't open up to anyone. There was no _way_ he could have been hooking up with random girls; there must have been some sort of mistake.

But then, the longer I thought about it, the more I saw how entirely possible it was; Cato had always been surrounded by girls at school – he was good-looking, athletic, clever. No wonder women here wanted a piece of him. I know I would.

I shook my head, snapping out of it. I was still trying to work out if maybe I had would been better off not discovering this other side to him. I suddenly remembered Cato's words to me from the ball in Snow's mansion. '_You're better off not knowing_'. I guess I understood where he was coming from now. '_Please trust me; I just want you kept out of this_.' I shook my head again, clearing it of the bitter memories. I glanced down at my wrist where there was the faintest outline of a baby-pink scar – so faded now that I didn't have to bother covering it. It throbbed more the harder I stared at it so I eventually turned away and continued walking down the corridor, leaving Cato and Oryan and the harsh reality behind me.

Thankfully, there was no sign of Rondula about as I made my way down. I knew that she wanted to take me down to the training centre to make sure that I got there properly and without confrontation but I scurried off without her, anyway, too embarrassed to show up to training with my brightly-coloured Capitol mentor firmly by my side. When I arrived, it was just a couple of minutes before ten but there was only half the tributes in the large space as there should have been.

A tall woman in a dark outfit stepped out from the side-lines and addressed the room.

"I'm Atala, I'll be running your training sessions. You all know how this works I suppose." Her voice was deep and she seemed unaffected by the lack of people populating the room we were in. "There are all the separate stations. No fighting with each other, please. Knock yourselves out." She clapped twice like we were a group of pigeons that she was trying to shoo away but I didn't think much of it.

As I scanned the area, I recognised the tributes from 6 immediately making their way to the camouflage station. Then I saw Johanna Mason, Gloss and Cashmere and then Finnick Odair at the knot-tying section. I decided that standing around like an idiot wouldn't exactly help the situation so I slowly sauntered over to the knives, grabbing a few of the smallest and slipping them into my palm. The handles were chrome but not too heavy, the blades hoary and razor-sharp. Before I began, the trainer of the station came over to talk to me and I had to do a double-take. I figured the trainer on each station would change on a yearly basis but obviously not.

"Clove," the burly man with messy, titian hair smiled at me. "Back so soon."

"You're still here," I marvelled, laughing slightly in shock.

This man – his name was Crystian, I think – had been one of my favourite people to speak to last year as I'd spent almost all my time at his knife-throwing station.

"Of course, where else would I be?" he winked, moving aside and eyeing the stuffed dummies ahead of us. "Let's see how much you remember from last year, then."

"Please," I scoffed, taking a step back and focusing on the worn target board in my sights.

I breathed in and out once, deeply enough that I felt calm and prepared, before spinning and flinging my arm out, releasing the tiny knife at just the right second. I watched with a smirk as it cut through the air, thudding into the thick, wooden board and causing it to shake around like a person being tasered. I grinned at the blade that was poking out of the bulls-eye centre, placing my hands on my hips in satisfaction.

"Good enough?" I asked Crystian with raised eyebrows.

"I suppose," he chuckled, shaking his head. "You always were the best student that ever came to this station. It's refreshing. Actually makes a difference from all the irritating careers that think they're good at knife-throwing just because of where they come from."

I pretended to courtesy and bow my head.

"You're welcome."

He laughed once more, handing me another blade and nodding forwards.

"Again," he instructed.

* * *

The knife-throwing had continued until we were all called to the dining area for lunch. Almost all the other tributes had arrived by that point, even Cato who, at first had lingered in the shadows warily, but had soon got into the swing (literally) of beheading stuffed dummy after stuffed dummy. The drunk from District 12 never showed up.

The dining room was huge, as was everything in the Capitol, with round tables dotted around the space. I took a tray and began making my way around the food-laden carts that ringed the room, frowning as I did so because I'd somehow let the entire morning pass without interacting with anyone besides Crystian. Oops.

Once my tray was loaded I looked around at the already occupied tables, deciding where to go. There was one with Beetee and Wiress, the two tributes from District 3, sitting alongside Cecelia and Woof from District 8 and some others who I didn't recognise. Then there was a table where Johanna Mason sat with Cato. They seemed to be deep in conversation which I tried not to let bother me as I continued searching for somewhere to sit. Before I could look any further, I heard my name being called and abruptly spun around.

When I turned, I saw Cashmere gesturing for me to join her. She sat on a table with her blond brother Gloss and Finnick Odair. I hurried over and placed my tray down, smiling friendlily as I sat down.

"Hi," Cashmere purred once I was seated like we we're already friends or something. I inwardly groaned – she was going to be just like another Glimmer. But a sudden flashback to my dream the previous night of Glimmer practically being raped by Cato made me instantly regret that thought. Maybe Glimmer hadn't been so bad, after all. "Saw you at the knife-throwing station. Not bad."

"Not bad?" I repeated with a small laugh. "Please. I was epic."

She let out a peal of high-pitched giggles, piercing and fake, whilst shimmying her radiant blonde hair over one shoulder.

"True."

"Clove's pretty epic at everything she does," Finnick added with a wink at me.

I rolled my eyes, turning away from him.

We were allowed a half hour break to eat which ended up being much too short. The time passed in a flash as I spoke to Cashmere and Gloss about their training in District 1 and how they'd found the games and then listened to Finnick's exaggerated stories from District 4. I actually found myself able to talk to these people without wanting to jab my eyes out with a metal fork. Well, Cashmere could be irritating but, on the whole, not as bad as I'd been expecting. _How's that for making friends?_ I mentally wondered to Sapphire.

There wasn't any mention of allying but, the again there never is with these things. It's just a subtle gesture or word spoken that indicates what will actually happen in the games.

"Our skills really compliment each other, don't you think?" Gloss asked in the last five minutes of our break and everyone nodded knowingly.

That was it. That was the signal. These people were going to be my allies.

I wasn't exactly surprised. Naturally, District 1, 2 and 4 ally with each other but, since Cato and I practically refused to work together, I was wondering whether they'd pick him over me as the District 2 tribute in their pack. Obviously, he hadn't made the cut. I grinned at the thought.

After lunch, Cashmere pulled me to one side.

"You're a great asset to us, Clove. I think we can make this work," she told me.

I just nodded once like I knew why she was saying this to me.

"I saw… last year when you allied with Glimmer," she continued. "I could tell you didn't really like her but, still, it means a lot that you didn't kill her."

I blinked.

"Wait, you knew Glimmer?"

I had practically forgotten that they came from the same District. That was why she reminded me of her so much, I guessed.

"She was like my younger sister." A glaze settled over Cashmere's usually sparkling blue eyes and for just a second she was looked distance and vulnerable. Then she snapped out of it and was back to her cool, confident self. "If she allied with you then that's good enough for me."

I didn't really know if that was a compliment or insult so I just gave her an 'okay' and returned to the training room, slightly mystified.

Once we returned, I joined Gloss at the archery station which I was pretty good at. My knife-throwing ability gave me a clear advantage. Then Finnick showed me how to tie some knots which was harder than I'd anticipated. I still couldn't really understand why Finnick liked me so much but he wasn't so bad to talk to, once you got past all the flirting. He would come in useful as an ally.

Just as we were leaving for the day, Johanna Mason shoved past me and shot me the dirtiest look she could, as if she wished I'd drop dead there and then. I growled under my breath, watching as she left the room and turned a corner.

_Should I? Shouldn't I?_ I wondered to myself before going with my instincts and following her anyway. I knew I should have just continued my way to the lift and carried on until I got to the District 2 training quarters but where was the fun in that?

People had been dispersing back to their rooms for a while and there was barely anyone left now besides a few tributes, Atala and myself. I darted out the double doors and down the empty hallway, hurrying until I saw Johanna's tall frame ahead of me. Still silent, I grabbed her bony shoulders from behind and shoved her against the wall, gripping her neck.

"What is your problem?" she screamed, clawing at my bare skin but I remained unmoving.

"What's _your_ problem, more like?"

"Oh, wow, this is because I was mean to you?" she asked mockingly. "Or because I stole your boyfriend?" She paused then added with a fake frown. "Oh, I'm sorry. _Ex_-boyfriend."

I snarled and spat in her face but she only smirked in response. I was going to _kill_ her, the second we got into that arena.

"I'm guessing that would be the reason, then."

"What do you want with him?" I demanded, tightening my grip on her throat and watching in glee as she began to choke slightly.

"No- nothing. I mean, it's none of your business."

"You're going to be allies is that it?" she said nothing, probably because I was cutting off her air supply but still, I took it as a yes. "You know he's just going to use you, like her uses everyone. He'll kill you the second he gets a chance. Well, only if I haven't had the pleasure of doing it myself beforehand."

Johanna looked like she wanted to say something but physically couldn't so I laughed in her reddening face and, after waiting a few more seconds, took my hands away. She coughed, backing away from me.

"You're mental, you know that? Stay away from me."

I grinned and began to walk away in the direction of my training quarters, calling over my shoulder to her.

"In your dreams."

* * *

"Did you make some new friends?" Rondula asked happily at the dinner table that night. I'd already gotten a telling off for not waiting for her to go down with me but she'd soon gotten over it. Rondula was all in green this evening, with an emerald dress and ghoulish smaragdine hat.

"Yes."

She grinned, seaweed-coloured lips parting in happiness.

"That's wonderful! And what about fights, where there any fights?"

"No," I replied, probably a little too quickly.

Rondula looked at me with a frown.

"Clove."

"There weren't, I swear."

What she didn't know wouldn't kill her.

"Well, I hope so. You make me look bad, you know."

"You do that without me," I muttered, low enough for her not to hear.

Once I'd finished my plate, I glanced around the table of brightly coloured stylists and workers – Cato hadn't shown up to dinner, as usual – and told them I was going to bed. I was exhausted from my long day of training. It was harder having to learn new things, interact with people you don't know _and_ try not to kill anyone in the process. Life was so much easier back in District 2. I sighed.

I got to my room in just a minute, walked in and shut the door behind me, only to have someone knocking on it a moment or two later. I scowled at the sound – I really wasn't up to talking to anyone, it was late and I just wanted to get some sleep. I answered it anyway, not that I had much choice.

"Um, hi."

I nearly fainted right there and then. Cato hadn't been to my room once since we'd been in the Capitol. In fact, he hadn't purposefully come to talk to me at _all_ since he'd left me over half a year ago now. I tried to stop my mouth from hanging open.

"Uh," I mumbled like an idiot, not knowing what else to say.

He was wearing a skin-tight dark red T-shirt and jogging bottoms – probably what he would be sleeping in. His hair was a mess, as it always was, his eyes wide and alert.

"I know that you know," he finally said, looking down to avoid my eyes. "I know last time I thought I knew but… now I _know _that you know."

His words made perfect sense, despite probably sounding like complete gibberish to a stranger.

"Right," was all I could think of to say. "So- why did you come, exactly?"

He gulped.

"I just thought maybe I could explain-"

"No way," I stopped him even though part of me was dying to know. "I don't want an explanation from you. I don't want _anything_ from you. You walked out on me and now you can do whatever the hell you want with your life. It's really none of my concern."

Cato seemed surprised at first but then he slumped, defeated.

"Oh."

"So if you'd like to leave, I have nothing to say to you."

He nodded slowly as if something was finally sinking in for him.

"Sure. I… I won't bother you again."

I didn't say anything as he turned and walked back the way he'd come. I didn't pause as I shut the door with a slam, making it clear that I had meant what I said. I didn't slow down as I got changed and slammed off the lights and curled up in bed. I didn't care that there were tears streaming down my cheeks that I couldn't particularly explain.

I didn't care at all.

But what I did do was wonder whether I'd just made a huge mistake.


	11. Surprises

**A/N: Hey, guys! I hope you're all okay. Sorry if this update is a little late basically I've had loads of work and exams and school stuff and also my lovely friend Isabelle introduced me to the wonderful world of Percy Jackson so I've been reading them and becoming obsessed with that so it's all good. This chapter is not the most interesting but still I hope you like it and I have a surprise for chapter 12 :) As always, I would absolutely love to hear what you thought in the reviews.**

* * *

The next week was tough.

Tougher than I'd thought it would be anyway. Training all day every day until all the tributes were red-faced and dripping with sweat, threatening to double over with exhaustion. It was definitely hard in the physical sense.

Training in the social sense was much easier than I'd anticipated. Cashmere stuck to me like glue, determined for us to be friends, her brother Gloss never far away. Finnick also maintained his fascination with me, teaching me new skills and asking me questions about District 2 whenever we had a free 5 minutes. I didn't mind it so much anymore though – he was sort of like a self-obsessed, arrogant big brother to me. Not that I'd have any trouble killing him when the time came.

Cato continued to show up to training but was careful to avoid me as if I were some kind of bomb that might explode if he came within a five mile radius. Johanna was vicious as ever but now it only made me laugh. She was pathetic.

"Clove," Crystian greeted me as I showed up to the final day of training before our private sessions.

I had been speaking to him for most of every day in the past week. His sweet face and gentle personality reminded me of Romairo a fair bit which… I didn't know how to feel about. Either way, I liked him much more than any other Capitol citizen that I knew.

"Hi," I replied, focussing on the target boards and beginning practise straight away. We were just days away from the games now and I was getting slightly paranoid about slipping up. I knew, naturally, that I had a talent for knife-throwing but I'd been messing up more and more lately the harder I thought about Cato and Johanna and everyone else.

I wanted to make sure I made the most of training time I had left.

It was almost impossible to clear my mind of all the things and people that were getting to me in one way or another, as easy as it sounded.

That final day, as I was methodically hitting bulls-eye after bulls-eye on the target boards, I couldn't help but keep glancing up at the gamemaker's lair, where they sat, watching us. Something was… off about it. I tried not to seem too distracted because I knew that a lot of people were keeping their eyes on me in training but after half the day had passed, I gave up resisting, studying the edges of the large space carefully but from a distance. There was a strange kind of shimmering light around the edges of the huge hole in the wall where the gamemakers were situated, almost as if the air was vibrating.

"What is that?" I hissed to Crytian who was sorting knives into boxes depending on the sharpness of the blade. It had meant to come out as a whisper but my voice strained in annoyance. How had I not noticed this on day one?

"What's what?"

I growled under my breath nodding at the edges of the room. Crystian's face remained blank.

"You don't see it?" I demanded in anger.

"Clove… there's nothing there. There's a wall, and the gamemakers are sitting in the judging room."

"I'm not crazy," I snarled, clenching my fists as a painful memory appeared in my head like a knife was scratching through my skin.

First Johanna Mason's voice from a week ago: _"You're mental, you know that?"_ I growled at the memory. Then further back in my mind,_ "You really are insane," _It was Cato's voice, informing me lazily as we had lounged in the arena, waiting for the games to end. His tone had been so calm and, despite the words, full of adoration that made my heart lurch painfully in my chest.

Crystian must have noticed my reaction because he eyed me nervously, like he was scared I might collapse, before sighing.

"Look, either way, does it really matter? Come on, we haven't got long left."

Well, that was true. True enough to snap me out of my trance and return to target practise obediently. I couldn't help myself from sneaking a look at the strange warping air though, almost as if it was compelling me to. Still, no one else seemed to notice it but me. Maybe I was _insane_.

The day flew by, faster than I was hoping it would, and eventually Crystian convinced me to leave to get some sleep – yeah_, right_. I made my way out of the training centre with my hair matted and sweaty, my clothes sticking to my skin.

"Gross," I breathed heavily, making my way to the elevator to get cleaned up.

My ego was not exactly helped by the fact that I walked straight into Finnick Odair on the way, who, of course, showed no signs of having just worked out; his bronze hair smoothed into a perfectly tousled quiff, his tanned skin gleaming radiantly although not pasty and damp with sweat like mine.

"Finnick," I greeted him coolly, continuing on my way but before I could take another step, he grabbed my shoulder gently and held me back. "What-" but before he needed to explain I spotted Johanna Mason sashaying her way into the lift with a hair flick like she owned the place. I snarled at the sight of her, watching as she closed the electronic doors behind her and drifted up into the air, completely unaware of mine and Finnick's presence not so far away.

"I figured you wouldn't want to get into a confined space with her and another cat-fight wouldn't have looked good on either of you," Finnick explained briefly with mischievous eyes. I don't remember every seeing him look serious.

"Um, thanks." Then I backtracked. "Wait, what do you mean _another_ cat-fight?" How could he have known about my confrontation with Johanna?

He chuckled deeply, flinging his arm over my shoulder which I shook off much to his amusement.

"I already told you. Secrets aren't told for free."

I scowled in annoyance. How was that a secret?

"I believe _I_ was the one who told _you_ that."

He waved his hand absently as if he didn't really care either way and then looked into my eyes with a sly grin on his face.

"What?" I asked cautiously, trying to escape the glare of his sea-green eyes which although wasn't _intimidating_, made me slightly uncomfortable.

"You have something to ask me, I believe?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"Can you please go away, Finnick?" I guessed.

He huffed.

"No, not that."

"Uh, how about, Finnick why are you still standing here talking to me, haven't you got somewhere to be?"

"_No_. I mean, _yes_ I have places to be but that's not the question. Come, on, think. You're a smart girl."

Immediately my thoughts drifted to Cato, who'd been hacking at dummies and slicing stuffed bags for the past few days, but, come on, what could Finnick possibly tell me about Cato that I didn't already know? Then I thought about training that day-

"Oh. _Oh_." His grin widened revealing pearly white teeth that I had to shield my eyes from. "You know what those weird shapes in the air mean, don't you?"

"_Those weird shapes in the air_?" he quoted with a frown. "And here I was thinking you were intellectual."

I bit my tongue in order to stop myself from screaming at him and raised one eyebrow, daring him to say something else.

He held his hands up in surrender, shaking his head. I watched in fascination as his hair stayed perfectly in place at the rest of him moved and I wondered absently how much hairspray he got through on a daily basis.

"Alright, chill out. I just thought you would have at least worked out that it was a force-field."

A force-field? What in hell was a force-field doing in the training centre? I was stunned and had so many questions but I was careful to keep my expression unrevealing and uncaring.

"Well what is it doing here? It wasn't there last year, I would have noticed."

As I was saying that, though, I realised that it could have been there and I hadn't noticed which would have been pretty embarrassing. Last year I probably hadn't been as observant as I should have, what with my head full of Cato and whatnot.

Thankfully Finnick smiled, but not in a mocking way.

"Right you are, they've only just introduced it. It's to… defend the gamemakers I guess."

"Against what?"

"Angry tributes."

I processed his words, glancing up at the now empty space where the gamemakers were usually sat, discussing which of us they wanted to kill off first.

"Who would be stupid enough to piss off the gamemakers?" I wondered aloud, desperately hoping it hadn't been Cato's fault that they needed reinforcements.

"You didn't hear about that, already?"

"Hear about what?" I asked cautiously, curious as to how Finnick knew so much about all of this stuff.

"Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire."

"Don't _even_ say her name-"

"I know you guys didn't exactly get along…" he glanced at my face, my lips twitching in fury and re-worded what he had been about to say. "I know you hated her and killed her which is awesome and everything because, hey, you were a career and that's what they do, but yeah she's the one who caused it."

"How can she have caused the Capitol to build a force-field? She's not even _alive_."

Finnick sighed, stroking his angled jaw.

"In her private training session, you know the one where she scored an eleven?" I nodded through tight lips, aggravation pulsing through my veins. Cato and I had been wondering how that talentless nobody had scored higher than us since last year to no avail. And of course, Finnick Odair just happened to have the answer laying up his sleeve like a used tissue.

"She shot an arrow at them and… well the President wasn't all that happy about it."

I blinked.

"She shot an arrow at them. An arrow. _At them_."

"She sure did."

"How is that even possible?!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in anger. The girl had absolutely no guts; all she did was run away.

Finnick rolled his eyes at my outburst.

"Anyway, the point is she nearly killed Seneca Crane, or so I heard, and they put up a force-field to stop others following in her footsteps."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was about to storm back to my room wondering why _I_ hadn't thrown a knife at the gamemakers – that would have given them something to remember – when something else occurred to me.

"Why couldn't Crystian see it? Or anyone else – why has no one noticed it but me?"

"I _think_," Finnick replied with a small shrug, "I think it's made to be invisible but it works better on the older generation, i.e. most of the people here. You and me? We've got eyesight that actually works."

"So… does that mean Cato could have seen it? And Johanna? They're pretty young. Maybe even Cashmere…"

"I doubt anyone's as careful as us," he winked which I assumed was supposed to make me feel better but I just screwed my face up. If_ I_ had seen it, Cato definitely would have. We may not be together anymore but we had trained together for all our lives and we could both tell when something wasn't right.

"Right."

"What's wrong?" Finnick frowned, taking a step closer and for a scary second I thought he was going to try and hug me.

I decided to answer his question with one of my own.

"Why make it invisible? What's so special about it?" I demanded, curiosity bubbling under my skin like boiling water.

"Oh, I don't know. But you know the President. Full of secrets."

That, I did know.

"Yes, but-"

"Hey!" I was suddenly being cut off by a deep female voice and I froze when I saw a figure trotting over to Finnick and me in a fluster. My shoulders relaxed slightly when I saw that it was just Atala, the head of training. "What are you two doing here? You know you're supposed to have left by now."

I nodded, shuffling away with a grumble.

"Atala, gorgeous, have you had your hair done? You have, haven't you?" I heard Finnick drowning the woman in compliments and flirty comments as I walked away rolling my eyes. When I turned back Finnick winked at me before placing his arm around Atala and leading her in the opposite direction. To his bedroom, no doubt.

"Smooth," I muttered, making my way to the elevator.

Before I could even press the steely button, though, Cato appeared out of the shadows, and was suddenly standing right in front of me which scared me half to death. I jumped backwards in shock.

"What is this, sneak up on Clove day?" I growled, mostly to myself.

Then, when I actually looked up at him I winced without even meaning to. The shadows under his eyes had got even worse, if that was possible, and there were three blistered, pink lines etched into one side of his neck which looked disturbingly like claw-marks.

"'Course not," he mumbled in a scratchy voice. "What were you talking to Odair about for so long?"

I blinked, placing my hands on my hips.

"Were you watching me?" I asked him quietly, biting my lip.

"No!" he exclaimed, suddenly before lowering his voice. "No. I just saw you two together and wondered."

My initial reaction was to tell him that it was none of his business whatsoever, but after studying his forlorn face for a moment longer, I sighed and let me arms drop to my sides.

"The force-field that the gamemakers have put up. You saw it, didn't you?"

Cato opened his mouth to answer but my question seemed to throw him and he snapped it shut again. Finally he frowned and nodded.

"I don't like it," I continued. I wasn't really sure why I was even standing here speaking to him at all but I didn't bother moving. "They could be using it for more than just protection."

I expected Cato to ask me something logical like 'what else would they be using it for?' but he seemed too distracted by the fact that I had said anything at all that he didn't bother.

"Why are you telling me this?" he questioned me, cocking his head to one side like a confused dog. He didn't say it in a rude way, more… wondering.

"I have no reason not to any more, right?" I replied, failing to mention that it was because we were mostly likely going to die within the next couple of weeks.

"Right," Cato answered, looking at my face instead of the floor for once and for just a fraction of a second, so small I may have imagined it, I thought I saw just the glimmer of a smile shaping its way onto his lips.

I cleared my throat.

"Anyway, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I concluded, edging towards the elevator.

He nodded once, otherwise not moving, his eyes following me closely as I made my way up to the higher floor.

"Well that was odd," I commented to myself when I was alone in the confined space of the lift which, although was stuffy and claustrophobic, was almost a relief after the week I had surrounded by people and questions and confrontation.

I slumped straight into bed as soon as I reached the training quarters (Crystian's orders, not that I was complaining), and for the first time in a while, I was too exhausted to even have a nightmare.

* * *

"Cashmere, District 1," the mechanic voice projected suddenly, piercing the tense silence in the waiting area.

I looked up from my seat to see Cashmere, drifting towards the training centre doors with first a knowing smirk at Gloss and then one at me. I didn't return it.

I hadn't even planned what to do for my private training session with the gamemakers because I figured it would be pretty pointless anyway. Everyone here knew each other's strengths and weaknesses – we'd all been scored before. I didn't see the reasoning behind going through the exact same process, having to think of something else to impress the gamemakers with. I knew that they would no longer be impressed by my knife-throwing since they'd already witnessed it time and time again in the 74th Hunger Games so I had to do something different, something they'd remember. Problem was, I had no idea what that thing could possibly be.

Speaking to Sapphire beforehand had turned out to be just as pointless as I'd anticipated and it was too late to ask anyone now. So I sat impatiently, drumming my fingers across my leg and waiting for the moment when all of this madness would be over.

Since we were ordered according to District, Cato was beside me looking just as irritated and uneasy. It reassured me just a little.

"Gloss, District 1," the voice buzzed again, causing a shock to everyone once more.

I wondered what Cashmere had done but tried not to think about it too hard. Gloss winked at me as he made his way through the chrome doors and into the huge training hall and I drummed my fingers faster.

Time seemed to go way faster than I'd hoped as I sat uncomfortably on the edge of my seat, dreading seeing Plutarch Heavensbee again, after our unusual meeting at Snow's Ball, along with all the other stuck-up gamemakers. I was betting they'd just love to have seen me mess up.

After what could only have been five minutes, the voice blared out my name and District and I rose slowly to my feet. Then, the strangest of things happened. I turned and looked down at Cato for luck, just as I had done last year, as if nothing had ever happened between us and we weren't about to go into an arena and, this time, fight against _each other_ for our lives. In that second, I completely forgot about the lies and the fights and the women and the heartbreak and all I could focus on was his eyes which were locked with mine, drowning me in a sea of regret and pain. I choked on my breath and pulled back, marching through the training centre doors and not looking behind me.

_Why would he wish you luck?_ I snarled to myself, bitterly. _He's hoping you screw this up just as much as the gamemakers are. One less target in the arena._

I shook my head angrily, that second of what could have been a moment fuelling me enough to get this stinking session over and done with and face whatever score they hurled at me.

"My name's Clove," I called fiercely as I made my way forwards. "District 2."

Plutarch Heavensbee smiled down at me from where he sat up above my head, clasping his hands together happily.

"Ah, Clove. So good to see you again. Whenever you're ready."

I bit my tongue and forced a smile on to my face, ignoring the stares of all the other gamemakers in their brightly coloured attire, surrounded by masses of elaborate food and enveloped in swirls of perfume.

Now, this was the tricky bit. _What am I going to do?_

I jogged over to the knife-throwing station and couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face as I felt the weight of the small knife in my palm, the sharp edge of the blade pressing into my skin. It calmed me down just enough to get on with it. As I turned, preparing to launch the knife at the target board and easily hit the bulls-eye, a familiar movement in the air across the room caught my attention and I saw the force-field silently stretching over the gamemakers area for the second time that week.

_If only I could…_

My eyes widened as an idea sprang in my head like a coil unravelling and before I fully understood what was even passing through my brain, I had a plan. _This is stupid_, I inwardly warned. _It can go wrong so easily._

It wasn't as if I had much of a chance to stand and think it through, though, as the club of Capitol citizens gazed at me wonderingly from their safe haven up above. I moved over a few steps to the left with my back to them and my front facing the target board which I'd hit bang on so many times before in practise. I had to get this angling completely accurate or the entire thing would fail and I'd probably be scored a zero.

I took a couple of deep breaths and let the silence stretch on just that bit longer to create a sense of tension in the room before spinning around on my toes abruptly, praying that the force-field was functioning properly that day, and releasing my steely grip on the metal handle of the knife, watching it go flying into the exact direction I had been needing it to. The blade rotated through the air as if the entire world had gone into slow motion and I held my breath as it whizzed forwards, in the exact direction of the gamemakers and, more importantly, Plutarch Heavensbee. I watched in jubilance as Plutarch and everyone else dived frantically out of the way to avoid being skewered, knocking tables piled with food and towering bottles of champagne over. The smashes of glass and china on the floor only made me smile wider. As I'd been hoping, before the knife could kill anyone, it came into contact with the invisible force-field and bounced off, hurtling backwards at a ninety degree angle. The blade soared across the room until it sunk into something behind me with an echoing thud. I turned and saw the handle hanging out of the bulls-eye and I swear if knives weren't inanimate objects, this one would be grinning with me.

So much for not having a plan. I'd just thrown a knife at a force-field and still hit the target. If that wasn't memorable, I didn't know what was. Katniss Everdeen eat your heart out.

The gamemakers slowly got up looking dazed and dreamy and I had to fight to supress my laughter. Plutarch Heavensbee was the first to fully recover, standing up with wide eyes and his mouth agape, absently brushing food stains and broken glass from his trousers.

"Th-thank you for that, Clove," he addressed me with a nod but his voice was hollow as if the shock hadn't yet worn off and he wasn't one hundred percent sure what he was saying. "You may leave."

I ambled out of the room in a minor state of disbelief myself.

Did that actually just happen? Did I just throw a knife at the gamemakers?

I swallowed, taking the elevator up to the top floor and hoping to escape to the comfort of my bed before the scores were announced later that night. No such luck. On my way up I bounded straight into Cashmere who was shaking her blonde hair out behind her back happily.

"Clove!" she cried, pulling me into her arms for a hug. I yanked myself away with all my force and scowled at her need to touch me but I don't think she even noticed. "How did your session go? Mine was fab. I'm sure the gamemakers will score me higher, this time around."

I raised my eyebrows, feigning interest and nodding.

"Glad to hear it. My session-" I faltered for just a second, "- it was fine. Everything went fine."

Cashmere didn't seem to sense the concern in my voice as I considered just how the gamemakers might punish me for using their own defence mechanism against them. Especially considering that I wasn't even supposed to know it existed.

"So, I'll see you later," I hedged, attempting to escape.

"Oh, sure," she smiled cheerily, continuing down the corridor until she was out of my sights.

I dashed to my room and collapsed on the bed, allowing myself a few minutes to relax after that stressful ordeal. I placed the pillow over my head and wondered what Cato was doing in his session right at that moment and whether he was pissing the gamemakers off as much as I had. My first thought was _yes, of course_ which made me smile, even if only a little bit.

I lay there happily for longer than I strictly should have, only bothering to get up when there was a frantic knocking on my door.

"Come in," I groaned, rubbing my eyes to clear them. The fuzzy haze of pastel pink slowly adjusted into a woman-shaped thing with an annoying accent.

"Clove," Rondula exclaimed joyously, sitting down on the bed beside me, "how did it go?"

"It was alright," I allowed, cutting her off before she could go on any more about what I did and er, why I did it. "Can we watch the announcement, yet?"

Rondula rolled her garishly pink lined eyes and sighed.

"Yes, as you please. It's on in a little bit."

I bit down on my lip, chewing it until I tasted blood. The large communal living room was already filled with people – Sapphire and Oryan together on one couch, there was my prep team, Maxwell and Crissina, some avoxes whom I didn't recognise and then, of course, no Cato. I raised my eyebrows at Rondula.

"He said he wanted to watch it in his room," she told me with a shrug, placing herself down and patting the space next to her for me to join.

Naturally he wasn't forced to endure the crazy capitol folk like me.

I sat down and tried not to worry about what score I got, failing miserably. I knew I was going to have to pay for my actions somehow and I was expecting my score to be somewhat lower than last year. Still, Katniss Everdeen had apparently shot an arrow at the gamemakers and she'd still scored an _eleven_. I didn't get much reassurance from that thought, though; I was no Katniss Everdeen and I knew full well that Snow would have no trouble doing whatever it took to make me die painfully.

The television flickered to life as the announcement began, Caesar Flickerman's bubblegum coloured hair filling the screen, his booming voice blasting out of the speakers.

I picked at my nails, not really paying any attention to the drawling introduction, only bothering to focus on the scores.

"From District one," Caesar informed us, scanning his information card briefly before returning his attention to the camera, "Cashmere, with a score of… nine."

I closed my eyes and breathed through my mouth. Damn, that was quite good. I remained with my eyes closed as he continued to reveal that Gloss had in fact scored a ten. Again, not a bad score.

A hush settled upon the room I was seated in as everyone waited to her my own result. My eyes stayed firmly clamped shut and I was digging my nails so hard into my own hand I was sure I would be drawing blood_. This is it,_ I thought in desperation suddenly regretting my earlier actions a whole lot. It may have been memorable but it was never going to help me in the long-term. _Stupid, stupid girl._

Caesar's next words caused my eyes to snap unclosed and my mouth to hang open as they rang through my mind like ice.

"District 2's Clove, with a score of… zero."


	12. Mistakes

**A/N: Hey everyone! I hope you're all okay and I really hope this chapter doesn't suck! :) **

* * *

I leapt to my feet the second the words hit the air but I had no idea what I was planning to do.

My mouth was still hanging open, my hands raised as if to protect myself from some invisible force. The silence that had settled over the room hung like an icy blanket that threatened to suffocate me. A zero. They really hated me that much?

"Clove, they don't hate you," Sapphire spoke quietly and softly like I was an infant though I hadn't even realised I was talking aloud in the first place.

I spun around to face her, the reality of the situation gradually sinking in; a hunk of cement settling in my stomach and making it almost impossible to stay upright.

"Don't hate me?" I repeated, my voice straining to stay under control.

"Of course not," Rondula added in a sympathetic voice, "they just-"

"_They scored me nothing!_" I screamed, cutting her off. The sound broke through the silence like a knife and spurred me on to grab the object closest to me – a sculpted glass vase which was projecting rainbows through the space as the light hit it – and haul it across the room, being deafened by shrieks and gasps as it smashed against a wall and exploded into a million tiny shards. I screeched again, kicking out and wincing as my leg came into contact with the wooden coffee table, sending it flying across the room.

"Clove, that is _enough_!" Rondula cried, flapping her arms around like she wanted to restrain me but didn't dare come any closer.

"She's right," Sapphire shouted over the commotion of the others in the room, "stop being so childish!"

A snarl ripped its way out of my chest. It didn't even sound human.

"Oh, you're just _loving_ this aren't you? Little Clove, she's so childish and pathetic; she'll be an easy target in the arena. Hopefully she'll die quickly and I'll be able to tell everyone how I tried to help her but she was too out of control to listen!" I screamed the words in Sapphire's face, venom thick in my tone. I had no idea where they were coming from but I didn't bother trying to stop myself. "You all think I'm so useless, don't you? Well I'll prove you all wrong when I get into the games! Show some respect! _I am a victor!" _I had never heard myself roar so loudly. I could feel tears of anger building up behind my eyes.

"Calm _down_, Clove!" That was Garia, her palms pressed to her cheeks in horror.

"Why should I?" I retorted. "Why should I do what everyone else expects me to? I'm sick of being manipulated by the Capitol! You want to score me a zero, fine, see if I care! I don't need your stupid sponsors!" I was looking at the ceiling as I growled out the words and deep down, something told me that all this anger was aimed at Snow but I didn't dare address him aloud. "You've already taken everything else! Why not give me nothing as a score – it won't make a difference to anything!" I now had to work to choke back sobs and there was a distinct tremble in my voice. Everyone was looking at me like they had no idea what I was going on about. They probably didn't.

I took one last look around the stunned room, screaming again in fury and storming out, kicking every other door I passed as I made my way through the corridor.

"I _hate_ the Capitol!" I screeched unnecessarily, kicking over a small breakfast cart and watching as the buttered rolls and tea cups and fancy saucers scattered over the floor with a clatter.

"Clove!"

"Go away!" I exclaimed without turning around to face whoever was pursuing me. I entered my own room and scanned it quickly, spotting my small bag of knives in less than five seconds. I leapt to scoop up a weapon – to do what with, who knows? – when I felt myself being yanked backwards sharply, my shoulders caught in a vice-like grip.

I froze for just a second but then I turned and saw none other than Cato looming over me with murderous eyes and messy hair and I began struggling harder, biting down on his fingers and kicking my legs out behind me with all the force I could summon.

"_Get off me!_"

"You need to stop. _Now_."

Cato's voice had such authority and power behind it that I was almost tempted to obey but then I snapped myself out of it, pushing even harder and managing to throw him off me. Now there was about a meter of distance between us, I spun so we were facing each other, both panting hard. It had been a while since I'd fought Cato and I was obviously out of practise.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "Go away!"

"No. I'm not leaving here until you've _calmed down_."

"What's it to you?" I spat, trying to get around him to my knives but he stepped into my way.

"You're my District partner," he reminded me as if that held any meaning whatsoever. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to respond.

We stood in silence as I slowly regained control of my breathing. I wondered what Cato was really doing here acting as if he gave a damn. Then something occurred to me.

"What was your score?" I demanded suddenly, crossing my arms.

Cato blinked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Excuse me?"

"What - did - you - score?" I repeated slowly with flared nostrils.

The unease that radiated off of him was impossible to miss. I waited, scowling.

"Uh… an eleven," he muttered finally, looking down.

My jaw dropped. _Are you actually kidding me?_ I mentally screamed in my head, aimed towards Snow mostly. When I had been in a relationship (or whatever the hell it had been) with Cato, we had been in constant competition – everything I did had to be better than him, I had to win every fight, have the last word, run the fastest, kiss the hardest. The scoring ceremony last year had been one of the tensest situations I'd ever been in; Cato and I both determined to beat each other. I knew I would have been furious if he scored higher than me but thankfully, we were both awarded tens.

And now he had eleven whole points more than me. For some unexplainable reason, though, I wasn't feeling the same sense of raging envy and hatred that I expected that I would.

"You scored an eleven," I stated in a monotone, disbelief swarming through my mind.

"Yes."

"And I scored a zero."

"Well, yes."

He looked up after speaking the words and the second our eyes met, instead of exploding in anger or lashing out or breaking down, we both simply burst out into laughter, our hysterical snorts filling the air like an out of tune record. It was the strangest sensation, being at ease in Cato's presence for the first time in what felt like forever and when I was with him like this… I was able to forget everything that had happened, even if only for a second. As it turns out, it was only for a second, as just as quickly as we'd let our guards down, we put them right back up again, the laughter cutting off abruptly when we realised what we were doing.

"Um," I cleared my throat, the humour draining off my face, and expected him to do the same.

Instead, the oddities continued as Cato took a step towards me in a trance-like state, took my cheeks in his hands and pulled my face up until our lips smashed together like boulders colliding – no tenderness, no care; just ferocity and passion and pure, unbreakable emotion. My immediate reaction was to pull away but, after the shock had worn off, it was like a dam had broken at the back of my mind and all the memories that had ever been made since I'd met Cato when I was just a girl came flooding to the surface, momentarily blinding me. His blond hair beneath my fingers in the dark of the night, our weapons colliding in a temper-fuelled fight at the academy, his lips soft against mine, similarly to that exact moment. I suddenly felt light on my feet but when I swayed slightly, I felt Cato's hand grip my waist making my heart flutter.

_Stop it!_ I tried to pull myself away but it seemed like an impossible task. _This is the same person who left you, who disregarded you like you were nothing!_

_But, _I allowed_, he's also the person who I've spent almost my entire life hopelessly and desperately in love with._

What was a girl to do?

My mind was made up for me, however, as footsteps hurrying down the hallway just outside my room caused Cato to jump away from me in horror. I looked around in a daze, my lips tingling where his had been and my breath still shaky. He looked down at me once with wide, blue eyes before turning and fleeing from the room as he seemed to do so often. I wasn't that scary was I?

"Clove, come out of there this instant!" that was Rondula, charging towards the room in a haze of blinding colour but stopping short when she entered. "What was Cato doing here?"

"Just go away," I growled, ignoring her question as well as her pathetic demand and slamming the door in her face.

There was an outraged shriek from the other side that made me wince.

"All I've done is be good to you, Clove! Since the very beginning, I've been there for you. And this is how you repay me? Shutting me out and embarrassing me by scoring the lowest out of all the tributes?!"

I shook my head at her wailing, laughing humourlessly as it became clear what all her upset was really about – I'd dented her reputation by scoring a zero. What a shame.

She went away after not much longer and I collapsed onto my bed, my mind a complete and utter mess. Did I really just score nothing and kiss Cato, or was it all some kind of horrendous dream?

I shut my eyes trying to think of game plans and strategies for the games tomorrow but instead ended up wide-eyed all night, wondering how everything had become such a mess. And now there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

When I woke up in the morning, my head was still a complete mess, a throbbing headache being the first thing to greet me when I unclosed my eyes. _Ow_.

Well, this was it. The big day.

I had skipped dinner last night but wasn't particularly hungry, anyway. I thought back to last year's games and for just a second wished I could be back there. Everything was so simple.

I sat on the edge of my bed and wondered how I was supposed to keep Cato alive when we weren't even speaking. How could I protect him from others when I could barely protect him from myself? It was all a big mess.

Maxwell arrived in my room at dawn and told me it was time to leave but I made him wait for five more minutes.

My first stop was just down the hallway in the communal living area where I knew I'd find Rondula. I hadn't said goodbye to her last year – I hadn't wanted to. But now, it felt like we'd been through more together than most other people I knew. She may have been self-obsessed and idiotic and a whole lot of annoying but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to miss her when I probably died.

She was exactly where I expected, garish lime skirt sticking out a meter's length either side of her waist. She was looking at me with wide, tear-filled eyes and trembling lips.

"Oh, Clove," she murmured, stepping forwards and grabbing me into a hug. I didn't really mind.

"I'll be fine," I told her in a confident voice that I hadn't known I possessed. "I'm always fine."

She sniffled again, stroking my hair and smiling slightly.

"I'm sorry for being cross with you about your score. It wasn't your fault."

"No worries," I assured her, clearing my throat uncomfortably because I wasn't much used to prolonged goodbyes. "Thanks… for everything."

Rondula nodded at me, her blue eyes looking sincere for one of the first times.

I choked and smiled one last time and left the room swiftly, not bothering to look back. There was no point. I trailed my hand across every surface available as I left; the couch cushions, the embossed wallpaper, the polished doorframes. I wouldn't be coming back here. Last year I'd been so confident that I would win that I'd never had to go through such a horrible experience. But now… I was pretty sure there was no way. Even if I survived for a while, my top priority was to get Cato home, not me. Despite everything – that was the reason I'd volunteered and I sure as hell wasn't going to let him die on me.

I sauntered up to Maxwell and told him I was ready, not bothering to say goodbye to any of my stylists or Sapphire my mentor. There was really no reason to.

Maxwell nodded and led me up the roof. His shoulder length red hair flapped in the wind like a ginger mop. I couldn't say I was going to miss him.

Once we reached the top, he accompanied me up the ladder and on to the awaiting hovercraft where I sat and crossed my arms to avoid punching someone. Could they just get this over with already? I was suddenly feeling more nauseous than I had done in a while. The tracker that was injected into my arm didn't help; it was just a painful reminder that the Capitol would be watching my every move and that Snow could squash me like a bug whenever he wanted to. There was water in front of me but, against my better judgement, I didn't take any. I don't think I could have kept it down.

We reached the launch room not much later. No one spoke to me. There was a shower available which I gratefully used, letting the water wash straight into my face. It didn't help.

I wondered what Cato was doing at that moment. Was he showering or preparing for the games or even having a fight? Was he thinking about me? I considered the fact that he might be thinking about killing me in the games. The tears that built up in my eyes got lost in the water streaming down, thankfully. But it still hurt. Everything hurt.

When I came out, Maxwell gave me my arena outfit and sat with me and combed my hair like I was an infant. I sat and let him do it, noting vaguely what I had been put in. the outfit consisted of a navy blue top and grey pants made of a thick fabric which I didn't recognise but it looked like it would protect well against the cold. Probably wouldn't be much use against the sun. The jacket I wore was a strange kind of green mesh that had probably been treated with something. My eyes stung a little when I thought back to last year and the conversation I'd had with Romairo right before the games. He'd told me he knew he'd be seeing me again and that Cato would take care of me, no doubt about it. I'd laughed and agreed like a cocky idiot and left him without ever really thanking him. As I sat, I thought about what he might be saying to me if he were here now. Maybe I'd actually get a chance to say goodbye this time. I might even have shed a tear.

Maxwell stood in front of me when he was finished with my hair, which was tied into a neat ponytail with braids woven in. He smiled slightly.

"Clove, I know I don't know you. But I've seen you long enough to know that you were born for this, _you can do this_."

It wasn't much but it somehow made my stomach settle a little and my head relax. Well, at least there was one person who believed in me.

"Thanks," I mumbled, wincing as the overhead speakers announced time. "I guess I'll see you later," I said nonchalantly, making my way over to the glass tube slowly. I took my time, memorizing every aspect of the tiled floor that I stepped on, listening to my rapid breaths.

I took one look behind me at the small, clinical room and my eyes fluttered shut.

'_You can do this'. _

I took the last step into the container and jumped a little as it sealed shut, leaving Maxwell looking at me through the glass with friendly eyes. He managed to mouth one word to me before I was carried away up into the arena.

"Victor."

An electric current seemed to pass through my body. I had been, once. Now I was just another tribute, getting ready to die.

I waited, a rising feeling causing my stomach to flip painfully. Suddenly a burst of unexpected light blinded me and the support from the sides of the tube disappeared. I was atop my pedestal, looking out at the new arena but I just couldn't get my eyes to focus, the sun leaving white spots dancing behind my eyes. _Where am I? _I wondered, a lot more disorientated than I should have been.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmith's voice altered my attention and I snapped out of it. I had just one minute to find my bearings before it would be a free-for-all. The countdown began, pounding through my head like a heartbeat. I looked around, first of all, taking in my surroundings.

Rocks and boulders scattered across the flat plain of land ahead like an obstacle-course. There was the golden cornucopia about 50 meters ahead of me, piled with bounty. I scanned the distance. Mountains. Grey slate sealed off my view. The ground had no grass, no vegetation whatsoever; it was like sand and mud mixed together into a concrete substance.

_Great_, I thought in slight confusion. A mountainous dessert. Definitely not what I had been expecting.

Once I'd vaguely worked out where we were, I looked across the semi-circle of tributes, searching until I saw Cato standing as if he was ready to run, his face fierce. He turned his head and met my eyes, and his expression softened. I swallowed, forcing myself to look away before I did something stupid like cross the space between us and get blown to pieces or start crying. Finnick glanced at me as well, a gleam of pity in his eyes. I scowled at him. I felt Johanna Mason's eyes on me but I didn't give her the satisfaction of turning around. She was on my list to kill first.

"10…9….8…"

I took a breath and re-focused on the ground ahead of me, memerizing where there were large boulders as well as tiny rocks that could definitely be a trip hazard. Within 2 seconds, I'd created a visual path for myself, leading straight to the weapons at the centre of the cornucopia. Should be easy enough to follow. I chewed on my lip, feeling naked going into a fight without my knives but tried not to show my unease.

_Just make it to the weapons. You can do this._

"4…3…2…"

I held my breath.

The gong sounded, clear and deafening on the final second and suddenly there was an eruption of tributes around me, blurs of colour everywhere I turned.

I ran.

* * *

**A/N: don't forget to review if you liked it! x**


	13. Starting Over

**A/N: so IT'S HERE! Huzzah! Okay, so yes I am alive, hello.**

**If you want to skip straight to the chapter, that's okay, but I just wanted to explain why I've been away for a while. I know wow I suck so so badly. It's been about a month since I've updated this fic which I'm really sorry about because I hate doing that but there are some reasons.**

**I know the 'excuse' that everyone uses is school but seriously I'm in my final year of school and I have to work harder than I ever have done before and it SUCKS. I just have so little free time I'm literally constantly doing homework or revision.****I do have a lot of other fics to keep up to date with and sometimes I'll discover a new pairing and want to write for them. I believe that you should go with your instincts with writing so, yes, sometimes I'll put writing this off to write something else, just because I'm feeling a different pairing at that particular time. And that may mean that the chapter goes up a little late.****And although the reasons above as well, mainly I've just been pretty uninspired lately, if I'm being honest. Don't get me wrong I still ship Clato hardcore to the death, I just… have been finding it hard to get into it, I guess? And it's not because I can't think of any ideas – I have the entire fic planned out to the end – I think I've just been sort of unmotivated. You see, writing fanfics was always something I did in my free time for fun but now it's sort of become a chore to update this fic and I don't want to feel like that.**

**I'm not going to stop updating, I promise! And I do still check the reviews every day even if I'm not working on it at that minute, and seeing people say that they can't wait for the next chapter or that this is their favourite fanfic is just about the nicest feeling in the world and definitely makes me more motivated to hurry up and update.**

**Right well this is insanely long and I doubt anyone will read it but if you have thank you and I love you and**** I really hope you like this, any feedback, suggestions or ideas as always welcome in the reviews! :)**  


**Talk soon guys and thank you so much for sticking with this, it really means the world!**

**~Josie xxx**

* * *

Getting to the cornucopia the last time around had been a lot easier.

The ground was harder than I'd anticipated, I may as well have been digging my feet into concrete for all the good it did. There were cracks and crevices hidden everywhere, seemingly invisible until you got within a meter of them. I ignored all of it though; my focus entirely resting upon the small set of knives in the distance, glinting sunlight off of them and just begging to be taken. They were _mine_.

As I sprinted forwards, the noise that had erupted all around me was distracting but I tried to ignore the screams and cries and sometimes even whoops of victory. I gritted my teeth, pushing my legs to go harder and taking a second to look around. I was one of the closest to the cornucopia, but there was a swarm of angry tributes not far behind. _Faster_, I ordered, feeling sweat beading up on my face already. Oh and did I mention the arena was hotter than the surface of the sun? Not ideal.

As I finally reached the centre of the space, my hands closed around the knives instinctively and I quickly grabbed onto a nicely sized one, spinning around immediately. As expected, there were people running straight at me some pointing weapons, others just screaming and trying their luck. I sent a knife flying with a flick of my wrist, watching in glee as it sunk into the stomach of an approaching tribute whom I hadn't bothered to learn the name of. _Yes_. I was a little scared by how good it felt and how much I suddenly realised that I had missed this from last year. I grinned to myself, snarling at anyone that came near me like some kind of feral animal and slashing out in front of me with a knife blade.

Then I saw Johanna Mason flash past me in a blur and I felt my blood grow hot. I didn't really know why I hadn't killed her already. My mind flickered into an image of her talking to Cato, discussing game plans which made me want to throw up and then the picture slowly morphed into a small scene in my mind, right in the middle of this hectic arena. Johanna said something stupid that I didn't catch and Cato laughed, a proper hearty laugh – one that I hadn't heard in what felt like years – and caught her lips in his, pressing their faces together in hunger. I blinked, snapping out of it. Johanna and Cato had probably never kissed but, even if they had, why should it bother me? Cato had made out with half of the population of the Capitol, it would seem. Still, despite knowing that I shouldn't even have been thinking about what they got up to together, I felt myself shaking slightly, my head hammering. _Just shut up_, I snapped at myself in my head, my vision unblurring. I glanced around to see that Johanna Mason was nowhere in sight. Great.

I looked around to see the dead bodies slumped on the floor and took one step forwards, knife poised at the ready. Mistake. A deathly force suddenly rammed into my side, slamming me to the floor with the impact. I let out a strangled cry but otherwise tried to keep my mouth shut, gripping on to my knife hard and scrambling to get to my feet. The attacker anticipated my movements, though, grabbing on to my leg and yanking me backwards and before I could move an inch they were on top of me, pressing me to the floor with their weight. I tried not to wince as I came into contact with the ground which was absolutely rock hard and burning hot. It was like being slammed into a molten iron block.

As I looked up I saw that it was the drunk from District 12 – Haymitch Abernathy. I realised how embarrassing this must have looked for my District so I struggled even harder, kicking my legs out and feeling one come into contact with his ribs. There was no way an old man like him could beat someone like _me_. I imagined if I died at this moment in the games, at the very beginning and by the likes of District 12, no less. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. That was _not_ happening.

"You really think you can beat me?" I smirked up at him, the grip on my knife so tight that my knuckles were turning white. There was no way I could afford to lose my only weapon. "I'm a career."

Haymitch didn't answer for a while, snatching up a strand of my hair and twirling it around his finger. I yanked my head away from him instinctively which, of course, only left me wincing at the pull on my hair. I refused to let him think I was weak.

"I'm stronger than you," he finally announced as if it were some amazing fact.

I bared my teeth at him.

"Unlikely."

Suddenly Haymitch slammed one fist into the ground beside my head and the other into the side of my temple. He may as well have knocked me over the head with a brick. I screamed out, my vision doubling and my head spinning. I felt the warm blood begin to trickle down the side of my face, dribbling into my hair like tar.

"You reckon?" he asked me, cocking his head to one side like he was pleased with himself.

If only I could get my arm free I would be able to slice him up with my knife like he deserved. I struggled a little harder but his physical strength and size made it impossible.

"You know I killed that weed from your District," I told him, hoping to sound intimidating but my words were coming out slightly slurred, all my senses fading due my head wound. "P-Pe…Peeta," I attempted to remember his name.

It didn't exactly have the desired effect as Haymitch's eyes blazed and he closed one hand around my neck, squeezing until his fingers were overlapping. I tried to scream but all that came out of my mouth was a strange kind of gurgle.

After a second or two, the anger faded from his eyes and his grip loosened marginally.

"You don't know what it feels like, do you?" he asked me wonderingly to which I didn't respond. Even if I had wanted to I could barely breathe, let alone speak. I saw black spots beginning to fill my vision and just prayed that I wouldn't pass out, _not now_. Then I'd definitely be dead. "Being the victim. You've never been attacked or tortured or taunted. Well, at least you'll get to know before you die. How is it, Clove? Feeling absolutely powerless? This is the way you make people feel. Doesn't seem fair when the situation is reversed, does it?"

I tried to ignore his words but it made me feel even more useless. I couldn't even defeat him without being made a mockery of. It was moments like this that I'd never had to worry about in the 74th Hunger Games because I knew if anything similar did occur that Cato would undoubtedly have my back and be there to help if I really needed him. Now… I didn't have anyone to help me. I was going to die. And the worst part was his words were right. I _had_ never been tormented in the way I would do to people.

"Go to hell," I choked, working up some saliva from the back of my throat and spitting in his face.

Haymitch lost the amused glint to his eyes and his nostrils flared. He kneed me in the stomach and I flinched so hard that somehow the hold I had on my knife was lost and I felt it clatter to the floor.

Well, that was me done for. Great. Haymitch noticed my knife rolling away and grinned, gripping a handful of my ponytail and ripping it into the air so that my entire frame was pulled up into a sitting position. I was inwardly screaming at myself to do something, _anything_ – I _could not_ go down in history as the career who was killed by a drunken old man – but I had no strength left to fight with. His beefy hand was raised and balled into a fist and I knew that when it came into contact with my head, I'd be dead in a second. Still, I stayed where I was, locked in position by his grasp on my hair.

And then, as if some kind of unknown miracle had occurred, he just… vanished. I looked up and he had been dragged off of me in a blink, my hair falling down limply and a spear sticking out of his chest. My mouth hung open and little and I rubbed my eyes a few times to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating. Nope, there he still was; a motionless corpse. And there I was, glancing down at myself to see that I was somehow still alive. It took a second longer to occur to me that, unless Haymitch had decided to impale himself, somebody had just saved my life.

I looked up, automatically expecting scruffy blond hair and concerned eyes but I swiftly remembered that Cato didn't look at me that way anymore and would definitely not have come back to save me. Despite knowing this, I still felt a tiny pang of disappointment when I saw Finnick Odair looming over me, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Are you okay?" he questioned me, offering a hand to help me to my feet.

I took it although I hated to accept help from anyone, even if it was Finnick.

"Of course I'm okay," I snapped back, cursing when I swayed a little as I stood up. Finnick kept his distance wisely. I scrubbed the blood off of my face with the back of my sleeve, hiding the fact that it stung like hell. "Seriously, I am."

He nodded, still looking anxious.

I took the opportunity to glance around the open space that surrounded the cornucopia and was presented with silence. Besides the bodies lying on the floor, the place was deserted. That idiot Haymitch had prevented me from being able to kill anyone else, damn him.

"They're all gone?" I asked Finnick, walking along beside him.

"Yeah. Cashmere and Gloss are over at the cornucopia seeing what's left. We killed as many as we could and the rest fled."

I nodded as he spoke, wondering what it would be like with only Finnick, Cashmere and Gloss for allies, knowing that Cato was out there somewhere.

As we approached the cornucopia, Cashmere saw me and came rushing over squealing.

"Clove! I told them you'd be fine!"

I rolled my eyes and stepped out of touching distance just to be safe.

"Obviously," I muttered. I took a second to look at the supplies that we had left – enough food to last at least a week and stacks of weapons. I breathed out happily. This was what made being a victor worth it. "You checked all the bodies for weapons?" I qualified, eyeing up the stash of goods.

Gloss and Cashmere glanced at each other uneasily.

"Oh, right…" Cashmere mumbled, cheeks blazing.

"Are you kidding me?" I exclaimed, spreading my hands out in frustration. "What do they teach you in District 1?"

"Sorry, sorry," she replied grabbing Gloss, who looked equally as guilty, and scampering off. "We'll go now."

"Good."

I sighed to myself at their incompetence and in that moment noticed how I had accidentally sort of become the leader of our small group. Last year it was always Cato who took the lead and made the decisions, after consulting with me, of course. I didn't know if I _wanted_ to lead these idiots.

"You certainly seem to have made an impression on them," Finnick commented with a dry smile, moving over to the knife racks and using the reflective surface as a mirror to fix his quiff.

I rolled my eyes when his back was turned but soon realised that he had seen me in the impromptu mirror as he chuckled to himself. I couldn't help but smile a little in response.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean to." I looked down at my hands which we caked in blood and grabbed the nearest scrap of cloth to clean them up. I cleared my throat while doing so, hoping I didn't look as uncomfortable as I felt. "And, um, thanks… for before."

Finnick raised his eyebrows as if waiting for me to say something else but when I didn't he smiled a little.

"No problem. We are allies, after all."

I looked down.

"Right."

I sat down on the rock hard ground, twirling a knife in my hand and waiting for Cashmere and Gloss to return. I also had to think of some kind of plan of action since I was now apparently in charge of the group. Brutus had always taught me to hunt at night if I could – it was better for surprising people and made it harder for them to escape. I wasn't sure how well Cashmere would cope in such an intense situation, though, what with her lack of wits. I bit my lip in thought.

"The tributes will be allying up," I commented aloud unhappily. The last thing we needed was teams bigger than ours.

"Well, that's a given," Finnick shrugged, seemingly unphased.

Cashmere and Gloss re-entered the cornucopia, their arms full of shiny, Capitol-fine metal.

"There was actually quite a lot out there," Cashmere noted as she unloaded her bundle. I glared at her, pursing my lips and trying not to scream. She was even more irritating than Glimmer had been, not that I had thought it possible.

"Okay," I announced, ignoring them, "we need to figure out what to do next. I say wait until the sun goes down and then we go people-hunting."

Finnick nodded once in approval.

"I don't think hunting in the dark will work to our advantage," Gloss decided, stroking his chin as he thought.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper under control;

"And why not?"

"If we can't see anything, how are we supposed to kill anyone? Besides, I think they'll be expecting that. If we wait until tomorrow morning, they won't see it coming."

"I think Gloss is right," Cashmere announced.

"Of course you do," I murmured, pressing a hand against my head in frustration. "If we don't go tonight, they'll have more time to recover from their injuries and find allies."

"I don't think they will," Gloss replied. "They'll wait until tomorrow to do that."

"Why would they?"

"Clove, they'll be expecting us to attack so they won't bother trying to sleep. It would be cleverer to go in the morning when they're trying to find food or whatever it is that they do."

I ground my teeth together, looking up at Finnick for support.

"I think he has a point," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't really care either way.

"Great, really helpful Odair," I growled, shaking my head. "I'm telling you, _you're wrong_," I stated in one last bid to change Gloss's opinion.

"Look, I think we should just go with it for now. When it comes down to it, it's three to one," Gloss told me, turning away and unpacking items from miniature zipped-up Capitol bags.

"That's it then, is it?" I demanded.

"Yes."

"I think I would know-"

"Clove, we've _all_ been victors before, not just you."

"That's not the point – I've been trained to deal with situations like this-"

"No one wants to go to tonight."

"You-" I don't really know what I was going to say but I wanted to argue back in some way. Eventually I just bit down on my tongue, grabbed a sleeping bag and stormed to the far side of the cornucopia, as far away from the others as I could manage.

I couldn't even tell them that they were stupid, that they we making a mistake and more fool them because their idiotic actions could end up costing me just as badly as them.

"Stupid, brainless allies," I muttered to myself lying in my sleeping bag on the ground, crossing my arms and waiting for night to fall.

Hopefully, I'd still be alive.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep and somehow slept through the cannons because when I opened my eyes, the sky was ebony black and the anthem was being played throughout the arena. I sat up with a start before getting a rush of blood to my head and wincing. Oops.

So maybe my snappiness with Gloss hadn't been entirely about his ridiculous plan (although it mostly was). A tiny part of me couldn't help but wonder whether Cato had been killed at the bloodbath or not. I doubted it; Cato wasn't as pathetic as me. He could look after himself.

But I thought about how all anyone had told us was that people would choose us as their first victims because we were the youngest, the freshest meat. I growled a little to myself. _This is ridiculous,_ I shook my head. _I can't spend the entire games worrying about whether Cato's alive. It's going to drive me to insanity. _

I thought of the alternative – forgetting Cato's existence and trying to win for myself. I shuddered at the image. I was insane anyway, what difference would pulling my hair out over a boy who didn't even love me make, really?

I glanced up at the sky, dread knotting in my stomach. What would I do if his name appeared? I wasn't sure that I could answer that question.

There wasn't any sound from the others so I wondered if they were asleep but soon decided that Finnick wouldn't be stupid enough to miss this. Gloss and Cashmere… I wasn't so sure.

The small ceremony began quickly, faces flashing through the sky like already-forgotten memories. Since it went in order of District, there were none from District 1… and none from District 2, skipping straight to five where both tributes had been murdered. I let out my breath shakily. A blur of others followed - the woman from eight, the two from nine – and I knew I should be paying closer attention but I didn't have the energy. When Haymitch Abernathy's face appeared scowling over me and I had to look away.

So, Cato was alive, somewhere in this huge mountainous space. I also noted that Johanna Mason was also still with us, oh the joy.

My heart was still racing slightly but I tried to ignore it.

I turned over in my bag, wondering what Cato was doing at that moment and whether he was with Johanna. My skin crawled at the idea of them together. Had he been looking out for my name in the sky? Or did he just not care?

Either way, the next morning would be full of bloodshed, if I had anything to do with it.

_Just wait for tomorrow, Mason,_ I made an inward promise. _You're mine. _


	14. The Hunt

**A/N: Sooo I know this is late again (I'M SORRY DON'T HURT ME) but at least it isn't as late as the last chapter? :p I honestly can't believe anyone's even still reading this but it really means the world to me so thank you! I really hope you enjoy and CLATO ACTION SOON I PROMISE but yeah I hope it's good and as always I'd love to know what you thought of it! Happy Easter everyone x**

* * *

"Time to move," I announced in my best authoritative voice at what must have been about 6am the next morning. The artificial sunlight that was tainting the entire arena a pale shade of gold burned my eyes and added to the smouldering heat that had been present throughout the entire night. I shielded my eyes and glanced around, checking that no one had been stupid enough to sneak up on us in the night and steal some of our supplies or, I don't know, kill one of us. Of course, everything was just as I'd left it.

"Already?" Cashmere griped, clambering to her feet and shaking out her blonde hair like she was on a catwalk or something.

"Yes," I growled, tucking the knives deeper into the lining of my jacket and picking up a spear. Not exactly my weapon of choice but I felt better with the weight of it in my hand.

Gloss rolled out of his sleeping bag a second later, shaping his hair just as Cashmere had done. Why was it that they felt the need to remain shallow and self-obsessed even now, in the unforgivable arena?

"Finnick?" I called, rounding the corner and grabbing some crackers out of a supply bag as I did so. "Ready?"

Finnick held up his spear like me and grinned.

"Absolutely."

I shook my head, mostly to myself and continued to walk away from the cornucopia and towards the mountainous scenery that surrounded us.

"Coming?" I called behind me, not really bothered either way if anyone was.

"Ugh, give us a minute to wake up, Clove," Cashmere groaned.

"We don't have a minute."

I marched on, spear out in front of me, and carefully assessed the setting we were in. There was pretty much mountains and nothing else that I could see. Water would be around somewhere – probably lots of caves and underground hiding places.

"Let's go down this way," Finnick decided, appearing behind me suddenly.

I jumped a little, then raised my eyebrows.

"There will probably be a stream down there somewhere. And tributes will follow," he explained, continuing forwards before I'd decided whether it was the best option. I rolled my eyes, following him quietly.

As we walked I noted everything I could about this particular part of the arena; the way the rocks were sprouting from the ground in just the right places to be a trip hazard, the way the ground softened in places like it would give way at any moment and the way the sun seemed to be much higher in the sky than was natural for so early in the morning. Definitely the gamemakers messing with us – trying to make us so hot we became easily exhausted. Great.

I also kept an eye on Finnick as we moved, mentally regarding everything he did. I wanted to trust him, I really did, especially knowing that he'd undoubtedly saved me from being permanently knocked out by Haymitch Abernathy, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to. Maybe it was the untrusting nature that had been instilled in me from training in District 2 from such a young age or maybe it was some kind of sixth sense telling me that he was trouble. Either way, I couldn't help myself being wary of whatever he did. Despite that, I did notice that he was as aware of our surroundings as I was which made me feel a bit better.

It wasn't too long before the stone beneath our feet slowly faded into solid mud which became softer and softer the further we pressed forwards. Finnick turned to me and pressed a finger to his lips, slowly edging further into the mud. I ignored the fact that I wanted to snap at him that he didn't need to tell me to be quiet, _I had done this before_, nodding my head, tightening my grip on the spear and following behind him closely. A moment or two later we cleared the boulders and rocks that seemed to surround us, a clearing straight ahead with a large, still stream in the centre. The mud around the edges was more sludgy and miry than the rest with clear imprints of foot and handprints and all kinds of signs of a struggle. I edged past Finnick who'd frozen in observation, peering into the stream of water and noticing the swirls of blood floating through it. As I crouched near the edge of the bank I could see the blood which had spilled into the water had also mixed into the mud slightly, making a brown-scarlet mess.

"Someone died here?" Finnick whispered, creeping closer to inspect alongside me.

I shook my head.

"Could have been a fight," I bit on my lip, attempting to figure out what the most likely scenario was. "Or maybe a tribute that was injured stopped here for a while then left?"

Finnick nodded as I spoke, frowning as well.

"This way," I instructed, keeping my voice low and my footsteps as quiet as possible as I stalked off behind a large wall of slate, not waiting to see if Finnick was behind me.

As we got further away from the stream, the ground began hardening again and trust me, it is easier to walk without making a sound when your shoes aren't sticking to puddles of mud. I kept my eyes on the floor as we stalked along, noting indents or prints that could have been made by our bleeding victim. The whole time that I was searching, although I knew I should have been completely focussed on the hunt without any kind of distractions, my brain couldn't help but wonder what I would do if the person at the end of the trail turned out to be Cato. I tried to shut my brain off, wondering whether the fact that I could smell blood suddenly more strongly was just a figment of my imagination.

"Clove!" Finnick hissed suddenly, causing me to spin around and check for danger. When I didn't see anything life-threateningly urgent, I cocked my head to one side and tip-toes over to where he was looking. As I rounded the corner, I saw that he was stood with his spear raised, wary of something in front of him.

"Finnick?" I whispered taking a similar stance next to him and seeing what all the commotion was. There was a woman lying unconscious on the ground, dried blood caked around her forehead and through her hair, and a man crouched beside her, terror shaping his features. Well, that explained the blood at the side of the lake but it did surprise me that there weren't more signs of their presence around the area. They were clever, clearly. Clever enough to hide their tracks – try, at least. Not much could be hidden from Finnick and I working together.

"District 3," I murmured to Finnick under my breath, recognising the pair from the tribute parade. Beetee and Wiress.

Finnick nodded, stepping forwards and clearing his throat. "What happened to you?"

Beetee stood up, holding his hands out in front of him.

"She – it happened at the bloodbath," he gulped. I noticed the blood that covered his finger tips and tried to work out whose blood it was. "I don't know what I can do."

I raised my eyebrows at Finnick who didn't move so I took it into my own hands, glancing down at the unconscious, possibly even dead woman on the floor with her pale skin and muddy clothes.

"Allow me," I smiled at him, raising my spear and ignoring his scream as I lowered it with force, directly above where Wiress's heart would be. Blood spattered out and the body flopped upon receiving the force. I yanked out the spear and held it up again to defend myself from the now verging on hysterical man before me.

"Clove," Finnick gasped sounding appalled.

Beetee threw himself over the corpse, soon dissolving into sobs and calling out his companions name desperately as if it might somehow bring her back to life.

"Don't even start," I growled at Finnick. "In case you'd forgotten, we're in an arena where we have to _fight to the death_. I'm going to take advantage of every opportunity to reduce the amount of people that want to kill me and if you have a problem with that, you can find a new ally."

Finnick opened his mouth and then closed it again, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Get rid of him, will you?" I demanded, stepping over Beetee on the ground and exploring the rocky space they'd been hiding from us.

I heard Finnick grunt as he impaled his spear on the District 3 tribute who, honestly, probably didn't even care if he died anymore. There was a gurgle and a thump as the body hit the floor and two exploding cannons then, other than mine and Finnick's breathing, nothing but silence. I shook my head ignoring the fact that killing innocent people had somehow become so alien to me, marching forwards and discovering the blood-specked backpack that had obviously belonged to Beetee and Wiress. Ripping it open, I discovered a small box of matches and a handful of dried food – nothing that would come in particularly useful to us but I threw it across my back anyway.

"You got anything else?" I asked Finnick, keeping my voice low in case anyone else was around.

"Nope, nothing here," he replied equally as quiet from across the way.

Suddenly a thunder of footsteps from the way we'd come erupted out of nowhere, filling the quiet around us. I leapt up and swung my spear out in front of me, anticipating attack, Finnick doing the same.

"There you are!" Cashmere cried and she came into view.

I snarled, throwing my spear to the ground.

"Do you want to be any louder?" I snapped at them, my voice laced with sarcasm. "Where's Gloss?"

"I left him to protect the supplies. Clever, huh?"

Finnick and I just glared at her, clearly unimpressed.

"Then where have you even been?" Finnick demanded, on my side for once.

Cashmere rolled her eyes as if we were totally overreacting, making me tempted to pick up my weapon again and lob it at her head.

"I thought I saw some weird markings down a different route so I went to check it out," she explained briefly. "It was a wasted trip, unfortunately," Cashmere finished but soon perked up, "but it's okay because you guys killed these two!" She finished with a little cheer, making her hair bounce around irritatingly.

I knew that, realistically, I should have been joining in with her celebration, no matter how annoyed I happened to be at that moment. After all, we had just made two new kills on only the second morning. But I just couldn't conjure up enough enthusiasm.

"Yeah. We did," Finnick muttered. He seemed to be as fed up as me.

I wondered what Cato would have said if he were with me. _Get over yourself Clove. You just brought yourself one step closer to becoming a victor._ Something like that. Well, that's what the old Cato would have said, anyway. These days – who knew? He barely spoke to me.

"Come on," I sighed, tossing the supplies to Cashmere and leading the way forwards, further down the river. "We might find some more along this way."

Everyone followed silently and obediently for once, Finnick keeping a lookout at the back of the group while I navigated from the front. I tried to think of places that injured tributes would wind up but it was harder than I remembered. My head had been so full of… other things throughout the past year, I'd definitely become a little rusty when it came to hunting techniques. Still I kept an eye out for blood or foot prints, especially around the riverbed which was bound to be a desirable destination for all the tributes. The further we delved into the arena, the mountainous walls that surrounded us became shorter and shorter until we were in a maze of boulders and caves and tunnels. The ground hardened and turned more orangey and sand-covered as if we were entering a desert. As the minutes ticked by, I felt myself growing increasingly more hot and sticky; the unbearably bright sun made it seem as if we were drowning in some kind of molten lava infused air.

_Please say Cato isn't anywhere around here_, I inwardly prayed over and over as we pressed onwards. I wasn't sure what would happen if we were faced with him. Would I have to choose between allying with him and staying with my current company? Would he even _want_ to ally with me? I wondered if Johanna would be with him and immediately felt an unreasonable wave of nausea pass through me. I knew I needed to snap out of it and focus but I couldn't get Cato's sweet face out of my brain. _Just please be safe. Please._

A couple of hours must have passed in the time that our small group had been circulating the eastern quarter of the arena and I was ready to murder my District 1 ally.

If Cashmere made another comment about how her hair was being dried out by the sun or that we should have stopped for a resting period already, I swear I was going to tackle her to the ground and plunge a knife into her ribcage. And I wouldn't even be sorry about it.

The irritating thing was that I was beginning to agree with her – about the heat being ridiculous, anyway. My hair had begun sticking to the back of my neck a long time ago and I could feel that my face was beet red and dripping with sweat. All the while, Cashmere, of course, remained golden and perfect; even Finnick's bronze quiff was perfectly shaped without a hair out of place. I knew I shouldn't have let it bother me but it was beginning to drive me insane. Especially since I knew it was exactly the kind of thing that Cato would have teased me about if he were here. _Stupid gamemakers with their stupid weather controls_, I muttered in my head as we trudged on, biting down on my lip in anger.

In all the time that had passed, we hadn't come across anyone else. Not one single stinking tribute. How ridiculous was that? Where were they all hiding? It was eerily quiet; this area of the arena seemed to be unexplored and fresh, much to my aggravation. I hadn't even caught a glimpse of Johanna stupid Mason, despite promising to kill her today. _She'll have to wait. _

"Maybe we should go back to the cornucopia and get an update from Gloss," Finnick murmured in a hushed tone, mostly to me.

I nodded, thankful to have someone else making the decisions.

"That sounds smart. There's nothing here."

I took one last scan of the scene around us, noting where people may come to hide or hunt for food in the future so it would be easier to find at a later date.

Finnick started to lead us back in the direction we'd come from while I took the flank position, guarding the group from behind. I probably should have been more alert but I wasn't particularly worried about anyone appearing from around this area – it was truly desolate.

We'd only gone a couple of yards towards our destination when I began to feel a strange sensation beneath my feet. At first I couldn't place it – I could only tell that something wasn't right. I cautiously continued forwards until I realised that I was getting the strange kind of feeling you get when your leg's gone to sleep and your feet begin to tingle. Well that was happening to me – it was almost as if the soles of my feet were vibrating for some unknown reason. I paused and glared at the floor, furrowing my brow in confusion. What was that about?

"Hey… do you guys feel that?" Cashmere wondered aloud, stopping midstep and gazing down at the ground like me.

"I thought it was just me," I muttered, tilting my head in utter confusion.

A couple of seconds ticked by as the vibrations continued… slowly turning into full blown tremors.

"I think…" Finnick began in a concerned tone, "I think there's some kind of-"

He couldn't even get the words out, though, as the entire surface beneath our feet erupted, shaking and cracking in every which direction, sending chunks flying out of mountains which loomed ahead.

"Earthquake!" Cashmere finished for him in a scream, grabbing my hand and yanking me forwards in the direction that Finnick had already taken off. I glanced back at the spot where I had been frozen, open-mouthed to see an armchair sized boulder denting the ground which would have undoubtedly crushed me in an instant. I made a mental note to thank her for that later.

"Come on!" Cashmere squealed, attempting to run forwards but finding it just as hard as me as the floor continued to move and creak beneath our feet, cracks forming in random places and creating abyss-like holes which lead into the depths of God-knows where.

I used my arms as an impromptu shield to cover my head; I couldn't think of any other way to protect myself from the clouds of rocks and dust which was showering down from above. Every now and then a shard of stone or glass would pass through my arms and rip down my face or bounce off my shoulder blade, making it even harder to keep running. All I wanted to do was collapse on the ground and give up. So much pain – and was it really worth it?

_Yes_, a small part of my brain exclaimed desperately as I clung to remain conscious. _Cato needs you!_

_Like hell he does_, I snapped back inwardly, feeling the last of my energy drain away like water trickling down a drain.

My eyes fluttered shut and the black spots took over as I slowly swayed to the ground.

* * *

_Owwwww. _

My head throbbed and my throat ached but at least I was alive. I groaned inwardly as I sensed the presences surrounding me, but kept my eyes shut.

"Oh my God, you said she would have woken up by now, what if she's dead?" A voice that annoying could only have belonged to Cashmere.

"She's not dead," a different, deeper voice growled, seeming very, very tired. That must have been Finnick.

"You did a good job getting her out of there," someone else noted. Gloss.

"Yeah, well. I couldn't just let her die. We're allies."

"Honestly I'm not surprised she was the first to be seriously hurt," Gloss commented. "After all she is the smallest. Not to mention the most vulnerable."

I reached into my pocket, closing my fingers around a knife and, before any of them had a chance to process the fact that I was in fact alright and very much conscious, I flicked it in the direction of Gloss's voice, not particularly caring if I missed or not. I looked up to find Cashmere open-mouthed and wide-eyed in shock, Finnick smirking at me and Gloss swallowing hard with a blade poking out of his jacket sleeve, slimly missing his flesh. Too bad.

"Who the hell are you calling vulnerable?" I snarled, sitting up and plastering a scowl on to my face.

"Definitely not you," Gloss answered with a sheepish smile, placing his hands in the air in surrender. "Sorry."

I ignored him, and his still baffled sister, turning to Finnick and trying to ignore the booming in my head.

"What happened?"

He smiled at me but it wasn't patronising – it was just soft and sincere which, for some unexplainable reason, seemed to make me feel just a little better.

"You remember the earthquake?" I nodded. "Yeah, well it wasn't just a normal earthquake – it seemed to, sort of come from inside of _us_ as well as from the ground. It only lasted about ten minutes, but, man, was it intense."

"Wow," I breathed, rubbing my nose. "Isn't it a little early for the gamemakers to be using techniques like that?"

Finnick raised his eyebrows with a shrug.

"Apparently not." I didn't like the sound of that at all. The earthquake, or whatever it had been, had definitely not been helpful. And the gamemakers had somehow made it directly linked to us. Did they use our trackers to get into our bloodstreams? Did they attack everyone else or just us? I shook my head, confused and overwhelmed. "Well, anyway, I think you passed out mostly from heatstroke but that could have been another reason."

"What do you mean?"

"It could have affected you worse than us, I guess. You are smaller," he shrugged again, then backtracked and his eyes widened slightly. "Not meant in a bad way, of course. I mean – I wasn't insulting you I was just saying, like it's just an observation, you know?"

I burst out laughing at him, shaking my head.

"I know what you were saying, Odair. It's okay, I won't be throwing any knives at you, if that's what you're worried about."

"'Course not," Finnick replied hastily but I could see that he was smiling, too.

"So how did the guarding go? Did anyone show up?" I remembered suddenly, turning back to a still slightly stunned Gloss.

"What? Oh- uh, no, no it was fine."

"Good."

"Hey, Clove are you alright? Like actually alright?" Cashmere asked me quietly, leaning over to pat my hand.

I pulled away instinctively then felt a pang of guilt as I remembered how she'd helped me earlier, wondering if I'd have done the same for her. _Probably not_, I admitted, feeling slightly ashamed.

"I'm fine. Thank you. Why don't you and Gloss go and set up for the night?" I suggested, noticing for the first time how dark it had become.

"Okay, sure," she answered, grabbing Gloss's sleeve and tugging him along with her to the opposite side of the cornucopia.

I waited until they both disappeared, rubbing my temples in hope of clearing my head slightly, before I turned to Finnick with raised eyebrows.

"What?" he asked sounding concerned.

"You've got to stop doing that, you know."

"Doing what?"

"Saving my life. Seriously, what's up with that?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Who says I saved you this time?"

"I heard you carried me out of an earthquake. That's pretty badass."

He shrugged. "It was nothing."

"Shut up."

He chuckled, getting to his feet and shaking his head slightly.

"You would have done the same for me, right?"

I avoided his gaze and hoped that the guilt wasn't as apparent on my face as it felt.

"Right."

His smile didn't falter so I hoped that he genuinely believed that.

"Did you want me to take the first watch?"

"No, no, it's okay." Even though I was deathly exhausted, I felt that I needed to prove that I wasn't the weakest tribute in our group. "You sleep."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm positive."

Finnick rolled his eyes again at my determined attitude.

"Fine. Night, Clove."

"Night."

He wondered off, stretching his joints as he did so.

I glanced around the empty space around me with a small sigh. Two days in and already I was ready to give up. Everything was so much harder when I tried to do it alone. And as nice as it was that Finnick had come back to save me, I couldn't help but imagine how much _nicer_ it would have been if my own Cato had been there instead.

That earthquake had definitely not been a good sign. A small part of me couldn't help but feel like the gamemakers had wanted us to get out of there for some reason… almost as if they were hiding something. I shut my eyes as my head ached, deciding to worry about it tomorrow.

I crossed my legs under me and watching the sky intently until the anthem began to play and the fallen tributes were displayed across the sky. Finnick and the others were probably awake watching as well. Cato and Johanna would have been watching. Hell, _everyone_ was. I held my breath and counted the seconds that passed as each face was displayed… letting the air out in a huff as the sky appeared to be Cato-free yet again, thank the heavens.

"You're out there somewhere, at least," I whispered to the blank navy sky above me, trying to sound cheered up by the thought, though I don't think it came across the way I intended.

Memories of Cato and I together hiding the cornucopia the previous year flooded my brain and, although originally thinking that I would get choked up over it, it was oddly peaceful.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, there was a blow to my head and something fierce weighing down on me, like a wild animal… or a person.

"_Ugh_! What the _hell_?" I grunted, rubbing my eyes and trying to sit up but struggling against the deathly weight that lay upon my chest. "Get _off_!"

I blinked back tears as my head started to throb again from the most recent hit, choking on my breath.

"I don't think so," a female voice purred from above me, her crazed expression becoming illuminated by the pale moonlight. A snarl ripped its way out of my chest.

"Johanna," I spat, shaking in anger. I may not have found her yesterday, but she'd found me.

Her pearly grin lit up the dark space; her eyes bloodshot and twitchy.

"Rise and shine."


	15. Putting on a show

**A/N: PLEASE DON'T HURT ME I'M SO SORRY**

**God I know all I seem to do is apologise but I really am sorry this took so long! I SUCK SO BAD AND YOU PROBABLY HATE ME BUT I'M SORRY ANYWAY**

**Aaaaaaaaaanyway I hope this doesn't suck too much, I tried! If you leave a review to let me know what you thought of it, it would make my day!**

**And on another note, just to say, if you happen to like Dan Howell (danisnotonfire), and you also happen to like my writing (haha lol if there is anyone out there that does) I run a blog where I post Dan Howell imagines every day, so feel free to check that out! The tumblr url is danhowellimaginefics.**

**Beside that, I hope you're all doing well and if you're still reading this fic I seriously, seriously love you 3**

* * *

I rolled to one side, hoping it would force her off of me but Johanna stayed put her fingers digging into my scalp. I screamed, pushing my hands upwards and feeling one fist come into contact with her jaw. My head was still swimming from having passed out from heatstroke earlier but I tried not to let it show, avoiding her claw-like fingers.

I waited until she tried to grab my arm and dug my elbow into her stomach, which earned me a satisfactory wail of pain.

I inwardly yelled at myself for being such an idiot and falling asleep on watch. Seriously, could you get any more pathetic? I grunted, ignoring the fact that I completely messed up, shoving Johanna off of me and springing to my feet, running away from the cornucopia faster than I'd ever run before. My head was spinning but I tried to disregard it, pumping my legs as hard as I could to get away from my allies and into the camouflage of the rocks and boulders. It was pretty pointless when I thought about it. I knew that I should have stayed and fought Johanna – I'd been _wanting_ to get my hands on her for God knows how long – but my brain didn't seem to be functioning properly. Before I'd had a chance to make a proper decision about how to continue, I felt a sharp pain on my calf and collapsed to my knees. Looking down, I saw that a knife had been thrown from behind and slashed across my leg, leaving blood leaking out of the wound and staining my pants. I reached over and closed my fingers around the knife that had been thrown, gaping when I realised that it was one of mine. _What the hell?!_

Johanna pounced on me a moment later and I let out a scream; it was mostly full of anger and hatred but the undertone of fear was much more prominent than I would have liked.

"Shut up," she hissed in response, grabbing my ponytail of dark hair and using it to smash my head against the solid ground. It felt like my skull has been cracked in two but I blinked back the tears that had begun to sting in my eyes.

"Not for you," I grunted back, kicking up and clawing a hand across her cheek, grinning as she collapsed in agony, shuddering. My fingernails were caked with blood.

I took her moment's weakness to slam her body to the floor, taking her wrists in my hands and holding them in a vice-like tight grip. Once she was in a worse position than me, I relaxed a little, forcing my head to remember all the things I knew about how to fight one on one – all the techniques Brutus taught me, the ones Cato taught me, even the ones I picked up from other tributes last year.

She didn't stop struggling and thrashing but I held on to her as if my life depended on it because, let's face it, it kind of did. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins, thick and fast with adrenaline and in that moment, I _wanted_ to fight. I wanted to kill her.

I hoped the cameras were on us because I was prepared to give them one hell of a show. Without giving her a second longer to recover, I smashed my head down to connect with hers, leaving me kind of dizzy but it was worth it. She screamed and rolled her head to one side to escape me but I didn't let her move very far. In the next second, I smashed my fist into her stomach and I could hear the breath being choked out of her.

"Is your plan going well then?" I asked with a grin on my face, watching as she tried to catch her breath between grunts and agonising sobs.

"Get off me!" she wailed which made me cock my head to the side a little in confusion. I thought she might at least try to save a shred of her dignity – but no. She seemed to be much more desperate than I'd anticipated. I stroke a hand down the side of her face which was dripping in warm blood, salty tears and mud from the ground. She looked a mess but that only made me more content. Finally, she was getting what she deserved. "Make me," I breathed into her face, watching with glee as she squirmed underneath me.

"You're mental," she coughed, still struggling to get away but I made sure she couldn't budge an inch.

"Maybe. Why does it matter?"

She looked up at me with pleading eyes which I tried not to let affect me.

"You can change. You can be yourself again."

I glared at her with raised eyebrows, sweating and panting and not having a clue what she was on about.

"Why would I want to change?" I demanded.

She didn't answer right away so I wrapped a hand around her neck until her breathing cut off with a gurgle and her face began to turn purple.

"C-Cato," she choked with bulging eyes. The sound of his name made me loosen my grip just a little and swallow my threat.

"What about him?" I laughed humourlessly. "What are you gonna tell me about all the great things you've been doing together?"

She shook her head fervently, trembling.

"No, he – he loves you," she spluttered, wincing.

I looked at her for a while, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

"What are you talking about?"

"He does," she breathed raggedly. "He told me."

"And why would he do that?"

"Because he asked me…," her shuddering breaths seemed to be coming more slowly and drawn out, "he asked me not to kill you."

I scoffed.

"Please. As if you even could."

She attempted to lift her knee up to wriggle free but I dug my nails into her shoulder to keep her in place, at the same time as trying to process what she was saying. It was ridiculous and I knew I shouldn't be listening to her but it was hard not to. Even if Cato had decided he still loved me – after leaving me to become a Capitol prostitute, no less – why would he tell Johanna out of all people? It didn't make sense.

Either way, I had to kill her. That much was inevitable. I reached down into my jacket and pulled out a long, thin knife, the blade catching the moonlight and shining down on to her pale face.

"I-if you kill me – he won't forgive you," she told me in a panic with wide-eyes.

"Why would he care about you?" I laughed. "What makes you think I care whether he forgives me, anyway? He means nothing to me."

It was a complete lie and I knew it but I was willing to say anything to get her riled up. Also if the cameras were on us, which I assumed they would be, I wanted people back in District 2 to see that I wasn't pathetic little Clove anymore. I wanted them to see that Cato hadn't broken me.

"Whatever you say, Clove," Johanna hissed, a hint of a smile on her face.

Her arrogance angered me so I growled down at her and slapped a hand across her cheek, leaving a glowing red mark. She let out a yelp, closing her eyes and panting up at me.

"I wonder what he sees in you," she mused. "Such an aggressive little bitch."

I snarled, sinking the knife blade in my hand down into her left arm and only ripping it out when I heard her satisfying scream of pain.

"Say that again," I challenged, partly hoping that she would. The seconds ticked by as she remained silent, groaning every once in a while at her injuries. Honestly, I felt just as rough as she sounded but I managed to bite my tongue. "It's over, Mason. You know it is."

She didn't even try to argue and had given up fighting back which, to be frank, was just quite sad.

"I know," she replied quietly, embarrassed. "I shouldn't have come here tonight."

I laughed lightly.

"Yeah, well. It's too late now."

Before she could say any more, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her head sideways, hearing her wail beneath me. The knife in my hand was then plunged into her ribcage but, before she could breathe her last gulp of air, she looked up at me, her eyes shining with tears.

"Find him," she mouthed.

Then, she gasped and shuddered, slumping back to the ground. Her body became limp beneath me so I rolled myself off of her, breathing hard. Without our fighting cries and harsh words, the silence was eerie and thick; blood pulsed behind my ears.

_Find him_. What? Why would she make those her last words?

I shook my head and winced as it throbbed massively. The metallic smell of blood – both mine and hers – filled the air and made my head spin even more and suddenly I felt so tired, my muscles aching and every inch of my body stinging.

"She's dead," I whispered aloud to myself in slight disbelief. It'd been one of my most main goals since arriving in the Capitol – kill Johanna Mason. That and save Cato. I should be _happy_. Except all I felt was a vague sense of emptiness and blank emotions. It was the same sensation that has washed through me earlier when Finnick and I had killed District 3. I didn't understand it. Killing, fighting; it was what I'd been doing for the part seventeen years, what I'd been trained to do. Yet it had all of a sudden become so… alien to me. I mostly wished I could just get back into being the merciless, ruthless killer that everyone in District 2 had grown to respect – but a tiny part of me was glad.

I shrugged it off, deciding that if I left the cornucopia unguarded for much longer, we'd all be screwed. I hobbled back in the direction I'd previously run from, firstly taking a second to find the medical kit that someone had salvaged and cleaning up the bloody wounds about my person. Secondly, I shuffled over to where Finnick was asleep, shook him awake and told him that it was his turn to keep watch.

Then I collapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

Waking up the next day consisted of a lot of flinching and swearing as my cuts and bruises seemed determined to make me feel every inch of them.

"Ow, ow, ow," I muttered, shaking out my hair and trying to claw as much blood out of it as possible before re-tying it.

"What are you complaining about?" Cashmere asked appearing beside me and yawning.

I ignored her and said, "wow, you're actually up on time for once. It's a miracle."

"Shut up, Clove," she sighed, grabbing a pack full of food and supplies and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Clove!" I heard my name being called and wondered out of the cornucopia, seeing Finnick standing in the pale, early morning sunshine. "I thought we could go hunting. What do you think?"

I disregarded his question, staring at him open mouthed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cashmere doing the same. In his hand was a trident – it was about as tall as him with golden embellishments and a thick metal handle and shining, sharp, silver-tipped spikes. It was absolutely over-the-top… definitely Capitol-made; definitely Finnick. Despite its showy front, though, I could see that, in the right hands, it would be absolutely leathal – about a hundred times more than a spear alone. And Finnick was definitely what I would consider 'the right hands'.

"Where did you get that?" Cashmere blurted in astonishment.

"It got sent to me this morning. Beautiful, isn't it?" he winked and grinned at us proudly, twirling it in his hand like it was some sort of trophy.

"Very impressive," I tell him earnestly, still slightly bewildered. Though I supposed it did make sense for Finnick to be receiving such amazing gifts from sponsors – he was definitely one of the most likely to win this thing.

"I thought so," he shrugged, attempting to play down his excitement but the fact that it was fooling no one only made me laugh, immediately wincing as it stung the sore spot on my head from where Johanna had slammed it against the ground.

Finnick seemed to actually notice me for the first time that morning which made me immediately self-concious – I had no idea how awful I looked. I predicted circles under my eyes, blood dried into my hair, scratches across my face, blotches over my arms and who knows what else. All in all, I was definitely not a pretty sight.

"What happened to you?" he questions me in concern, stepping over to where I was and placing a hand on my chin.

I snapped my head away, hating the way he towered over me. It made me feel like a child which was just embarrassing but also it sort of reminded me of Cato, who'd always been miles taller.

"I sort of got into a minor scuffle with Johanna Mason last night," I admitted in a rush, hoping to sound nonchalant and probably failing miserably.

His eyes widened – obviously surprised to hear the news.

"How minor?"

I looked at the ground, shrugging my shoulders a little.

"_Clove_," Finnick pressed.

"I may have killed her."

He sighs in exasperation, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Right. And when were you going to tell me this?"

I didn't answer which made him sigh again, turning around so that he wasn't facing me.

"Way to go, Clove!" Cashmere cheered, nudging me.

I plastered on a smile.

"Thanks."

"Anyway," Finnick cut in, spinning back to us, trident in hand. "How about that hunting trip?" He was smiling a little.

"Sure," I rolled my eyes at his impatience. "Where's Gloss?"

"Oh, he's around the other side," Cashmere answered me. "He's going to stay and keep watch again."

"Okay," I nodded, grabbing my own pack of necessary items and marching forwards, away from the cornucopia and towards the vast mountainous pathways. I wasn't particularly worried about taking the lead but since no one else had volunteered, I stayed at the front, a knife in the palm of my hand.

Walking at the front did give me control though, which I was in favour of. I decided that we may as well continue the way we had been going before, down past the stream and through the collapsed wreck of boulders from the earthquake. There were loads of little cave-like build-ups of rock which I thought was a good sign that there would be life around here somewhere.

What I found after a little while, though, was that it was much harder to figure out which direction to go in when every rock looks the damn same.

* * *

"Why is there no one around?" Cashmere groaned, dragging her feet along the ground noisily.

We had been walking for only around half an hour but, she was right – it was strangely quiet. Somehow we'd ended up near the edges of the rocky area and not too far from the central clearing where we'd left Gloss.

"I guess this area is just a no-go," I shrugged, looking around for even the faintest signs of life.

Finnick slumped and I could tell that he was disappointed that he hadn't had a chance to try out his new toy.

"Maybe we should go back, then try starting over in a new direction?" he suggested.

I nodded.

"I guess that would make sense."

We all turned in unison to begin our journey back when there was a sudden flurry of noise that caught us all off guard. It was sort of like leaves rusting but… heavier somehow.

"What was that?" Cashmere hissed, grabbing on to my arm.

I shook her off, irritated, glancing around and gesturing for silence.

"I don't know."

Time froze for a moment as we all stood still with nothing but the ragged sound of our breathing filling the air and just as I was about to declare that we split up and try to find the source of the sound, it suddenly became a lot louder and the entire world around me exploded into commotion.

Cashmere screamed, Finnick gasped – I just stood in awe for a second. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny, furry creatures had erupted from behind a wall of stone, squeaking and grunting shrilly and digging their little feet into the ground in their hurry to get over to us. Their faces seemed kind of sweet at first but when they opened their mouths to squawk, I noticed the masses of pointed, sharp teeth dripping with saliva at the thought of sinking them into human flesh.

Rats.

Except strange and mutated and, of course, Capitol-made gruesome.

"Come on!" I screamed, my voice coming out strangled and not sounding at all like myself.

I took off running in the direction we just trekked through, pounding feet on the floor following behind me, along with the undertone of scuffling claws. I threw myself over rocks and boulders and anything that might be a trip hazard, focusing on getting into the open of the clearing and finding our way to safety.

_Oh God, oh God,_ my buzzing brain was squealing, picturing how horrendous it would be to be killed by a flock of those things.

Eventually, the area in front of me cleared and I was temporarily blinded by the sun as I sprinted forwards, not even bothering to check behind me. The angry squeaking seemed to grow with every footstep. When I reached the cornucopia, I screamed out, "Gloss!" and clambered up to the roof of the large structure, panting and shuddering. Thankfully he had heard me and soon appeared at the bottom with a questioning look. I didn't bother to explain, I just reached down and heaved him up, absently noticing that Finnick and Cashmere had arrived and were struggling up to the safety of the top alike.

"Are we all here?" Finnick called, checking over at Gloss and I.

Cashmere had collapsed back on to the solid surface beneath us, panting hard. I nodded.

It was complete déjà vu being up here again, after last year – mine and Cato's final few moments spent on the roof of the cornucopia after running from a herd of mutts and then having to fight Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen until only two of us remained. I wanted to grin at the memory but I couldn't bring myself to – it would only be too painful.

I was suddenly pulled away from my thoughts by the hammering on the bottom of the cornucopia building and I couldn't resist poking my head over the edge to take a look. There were so many of the tiny Capitol rats, it made me dizzy to look at. Most of them were bleeding in their own frantic bid to get up to the top, clawing at each other as well as the solid wall separating them from us.

"Guys," Cashmere groaned, alerting all of our attention. "I'm bleeding."

I shuffled over to her and lifted up the sleeve of her jacket, unable to help myself from emitting a gasp. The bite mark on her arm was so severe I wondered how I hadn't noticed before. The teeth marks sunk right down into her skin and the blood was flowing freely, collecting in a small black-looking puddle in her lap.

"You're gonna be fine," I said reassuringly, which was strange because that wasn't like me at all.

"How?" she quizzed me, eyebrows raised tiredly like she'd already thought about it. "The medical supplies are down there. The food is down there. The weapons are down there."

Slowly, it sunk into my head what she was saying. Unlike the mutts last year, who had become bored when it seemed that there would be no one for them to kill, these rats seemed to have no intention of leaving any time soon.

And within a few days… we would be dead.

I swallowed, looking between Finnick and Gloss then back to Cashmere. My voice came out in a shaky breath.

"Shit."


	16. Allies

**A/N: OH MY GOSH I HAVE UPDATED AT A REASONABLE TIME WHAAAAAAAT**

**Just kidding but yeah new chapter yay! I really hope you like it and your reviews make my day 100 times better! 3**

* * *

I hadn't had much time to ponder over how we were likely to die up here if the gamemakers got their way, when all of us were stunned into a silence by a piercing explosion of sound, making it feel like my eardrums had just been ripped out. My hands flew to my ears to block out the roar of sound but I quickly scrambled to the edge of the cornucopia roof to see what was happening. The stupid, squeaky little rats with their razor sharp teeth, foaming at the mouth, were still huddled at the bottom – but there was something that was making them begin to move away, slowly at first, and then they were running. As I squinted my eyes I saw a flash of bright golden colour and glanced at Finnick wonderingly. _What the hell?_ I turned back and gaped as I realised that there was a fire. _Someone had started a fire._ And naturally the little rodents were scurrying off desperately to get away from the burning flames, disappearing off into the mountains. I didn't take a second longer to watch, leaping off of the roof and hitting the ground with a thud. _Ow_. I brushed myself off, running over to where I had left my knives and grabbing up a handful, then returning into the open where only a handful of the rats remained.

"Help me kill them you morons!" I shouted up to my allies, already flinging the small blades out in front of me and feeling the satisfaction spread through my body like some kind of warm liquid, every shot I fired hitting at least one target.

Finnick appeared at my side a moment later, his golden trident held out in front of him, jabbing at the scrambling creatures that surrounded us. Lunge, throw, strike, kill. Gloss and Cashmere just stood seeming awestruck and confused. I was tempted to turn around and throw a knife at _them_ on more than one occasion.

Within a few minutes every single one of the mutated little rats had either scurried off or been killed by Finnick and I. The fire had died out a while ago, leaving the ground scorched and blackened. There was no trace of how it had been started. I stood panting, looking out on to the plane of land before us which was now scattered with rodent corpses and trails of blood. Nothing moving, though. Still slightly dazed by what had just happened, I wondered forwards, reaching down and pressing my hand against a small puddle of black-looking blood to make sure it was actually real. It was still warm but smelt… off. Definitely manipulated by the Capitol. I growled, marching back to the others.

"What the hell happened?" I demanded, wiping my fingers against my already stained jacket to clean them.

"That fire… it just came out of nowhere," Gloss murmured in bewilderment, making my eyes roll.

"I very much doubt that," I retorted.

I turned to Finnick who was the least idiotic (if you can believe that) out of our little group. "Did you see anything?"

He scratched his head, perplexed. A part of me noted how he had somehow managed to keep his quiff absolutely perfectly sculpted despite the entire ordreal. Even Cashmere and Gloss looked a little beat-up. But not Odair.

"I didn't see anything," he muttered, sounding annoyed. "Where did that even come from?"

I huffed angrily that I had somehow managed to let my guard down for long enough to miss whatever had just happened. All I did know was that someone had started a fire. I didn't see how it could have happened without anyone interfering – there wasn't anything flammable down there that could have set alight itself. I began to drum my fingers against my palm, digging my nails in. I supposed that the Capitol could have caused it, easily, but then again that made no sense since they were the reason that we had been chased up to the roof in the first place.

"Well, whatever happened, at least it _did_ happen. I was beginning to think we weren't going to get down," Finnick said, stretching and placing resting his trident against the cornucopia.

"Yeah," Gloss agreed.

I knew they were right but I still felt slightly annoyed. It was like we needed to be rescued or something – when we were supposed to be the strongest, most elite tributes in the entire freaking arena. I bit down on my lip, turning to get a drink because waiting on the roof whilst the sun practically baked us had made me a tad dehydrated.

I grabbed the nearest canteen and swigged some water before collapsing on top of a huge box filled with weapons. I crossed my legs under me, and let my body relax for just a moment.

"Okay, we're out of danger for now," I sighed, placing the drink down and addressing anyone who was listening. "But we can't let that happen again."

"Clove, how were we supposed to-"

"I don't know! Just find a way, goddammit!" I growled, cutting off Gloss who had begun to interrupt me.

They all stood in silence, a tense atmosphere settling over us. I frowned, turning to Cashmere who had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since our miraculous saviour.

"Go and clean up your arm," I told her, surprised that she hadn't been complaining about it already. I could see the blood stain through her jacket.

"Oh – okay," she answered, her voice no more than a breath. I narrowed my eyes, looking at her closely and realising that she was light on her feet, swaying slightly, and her eyes weren't even focussed on me – they were blurry and her pupils were dilated, almost as if there was a glassy film covering them.

"Cashmere?" I asked, standing up. Gloss and Finnick noticed the concern in my voice and turned towards her, too. She couldn't have been have such a strange turn from one rat bite, could she? Unless of course they had some kind of poisonous venom, which, now I thought about it, was entirely likely.

"Cashmere?" Gloss repeated, dismay seeping into his tone. "Are you alright? She looks like she's going to pass out," he said to us.

I swallowed, taking another step towards her. She didn't just look ill. She looked… haunted.

"Guys, I think we should…" I started slowly but didn't get the words out as Cashmere suddenly let out a gut-wrenching scream coming straight from the air in her lungs, so loud it felt like a dagger had been lodged into my brain. Gloss, Finnick and I all gasped and winced, taking a step backwards.

"What do we do?" Finnick questioned me in panic but it was hard to hear him over the echo of her scream. I tried to answer, despite not even knowing, but then Cashmere silenced her own shriek with a choke and gurgle, almost as if some invisible person had strangled the sound out of her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and, before anyone could register what was happening, she collapsed. It wasn't the kind of graceful collapsing that you'd expect from someone like her – it was sudden and hard, she fell right against the sold floor on to her back and there was a thunderous crack. The second her body hit the ground, her entire frame started to fit; wild, furious convulsions.

Gloss shouted out her name and rushed to her side, Finnick's eyes bulged and he did the same. Even I gasped, unable to stop myself. It was a gruesome sight – there were snaps and thuds as she hit her own body against the ground repeatedly causing her bones to break. Blood began to trickle out of her mouth as she shook so violently that she was biting down on her own tongue. I stayed frozen where I was, unable to take my eyes off of the scene in front of me.

"Hold down her arms!" Finnick commanded in bark at Gloss who was crouched opposite him, his face contorted into a mask of horror. Gloss snapped out of it, complying immediately but I could see that it was already too late. Her eyes had gone blank and in the next second, the convulsions stopped, leaving her still as a corpse.

Finnick leant down and pressed his ear against her chest, straining to hear a heartbeat. I just stood, expressionless. Gloss glanced between his sister's mangled body and Finnick's grimacing face, his face falling.

"She's dead," he stated in a monotone, turning his attention down to the body beside him; the pale, bloodied face, the blank eyes and contorted mouth. He leant forwards and stroked her eyelids closed more gently than I'd ever seen him before. Finnick cleared his throat and I had to look away because the moment seemed so private.

Gloss stood up a minute later, Finnick joining him and coming over to where I was. Everyone's face was grim.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Finnick said quietly. "I wish there was something I could have done."

Gloss gulped.

"We were gonna win together," he whispered, looking down.

I bit the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood..

"I guess they were made to kill us," I shrugged. "Capitol-made."

Gloss's face slowly lost any trace of sadness and when he looked up his features were twisted into a mask of stern blankness. He was shutting us out, getting over it in order to keep himself alive. I admired him for that. "Well. Either way, she's gone now."

The canon sounded, making us all jump slightly but no one commented.

"I'm just going to…" Gloss trailed off, wondering over to the other side of the cornucopia, leaving me with Finnick. I watched Gloss as he left; the way his shoulders sagged and his eyes remained agonised despite his stony exterior.

"I would have thought he'd be more upset," Finnick commented once Gloss was out of earshot which made me roll my eyes. And there I had been thinking Finnick was smart.

"He is upset you idiot," I said, sitting back down onto the box of weapons.

Finnick frowned.

"How can you tell? Is that a girl thing?"

I looked away from him, twirling a knife in my hands and concentrating on the sharp, reflective edge of the blade to take my mind off of the gross imagine of Cashmere's broken body on the floor. I didn't answer aloud but realised why I could tell.

Because I knew the feeling.

* * *

Gloss was always good at guarding the supplies and weapons but today he seemed like an especially good candidate for watching over our stuff while Finnick and I went hunting, since he was reluctant to leave the cornucopia. I shrugged it off, allowing him to stay as long as he promised to stay focussed, and heading off with Finnick by my side. Cashmere's death had only reminded me of how badly I wanted to get this entire thing over with as soon as possible.

I didn't mention it aloud but I was definitely becoming wary of the numbers. Only nine tributes left. As far as I knew Cato was still alive, along with District 11 and half of District 8. The others I didn't even know the names of but I was careful not to underestimate even the weakest of tributes. Katniss and Peeta last year had proven that even some of the poorest Districts could surprise you.

Finnick and I decided to go down a small path today, one that we hadn't investigated before. He took the front while I kept watch at the back, letting him know if I noticed anything suspicious. I had brought along my remaining knives – Finnick his over-the-top trident.

"You do realise that makes you look like a complete ponce," I told him as we trekked along, keeping an eye out for other people.

He snorted.

"I could take _you_ out with it."

I'd raised my eyebrows and been tempted to challenge him to a fight but knew that we didn't have time for that. So instead I just grinned and pressed on, keeping a knife tightly gripped in my palm in case we ran into any trouble (which was more than likely). The gamemakers had obviously been feeling nice today as the sun wasn't scorching our brains out as usual; it was actually quite pleasant and warm. The thick humid air wasn't so great, though – every intake of breath was like choking on poisonous gas.

As I continued to walk on, Finnick a few paces ahead, I stopped myself suddenly as I noticed a large pair of footprints to the left of me. I cocked my head to the side, wondering where they lead to. Someone had obviously come this way. My eyes widened in excitement.

Suddenly there was a scurry of movement and I saw a figure in the shadows about fifty meters away, a flash of pale skin and… messy blond hair. I swallowed, his eyes connecting with mine and, even from the large distance away, I could see the pleading in them. He looked scared. I gasped a little at the sight of him after so long but quickly pulled my expression under control when I heard Finnick trotting back to where I was. Panicked, I turned around and faced him, hoping I didn't look suspicious.

"What are you doing?" Finnick demanded, seeming annoyed at first but then curious. "Did you find something?"

I swallowed.

"No, nothing here. I mean – I thought I saw – I just – it doesn't matter," I choked on my words, cursing myself for being so stupid. But I couldn't help it – my heart was hammering in my chest at a hundred miles an hour. "Let's go this way," I decided, pointing in the direction exactly opposite from where I'd seen Cato, nodding at Finnick encouragingly when he didn't seem convinced.

"O…kay. Okay, fine," he agreed with a shrug, setting off to where I had pointed.

I remained frozen as I watched him march off, trident in hand and realised that I had to make my decision, then and there. Well, I had already decided not to give Cato away and let Finnick kill him. Now I had to choose between conuing on with Finnick and killing any tributes we could find… or returning to Cato even though he probably didn't want me there and may have even disappeared somewhere by now.

I swallowed; the choice was a lot easier than it should have been. I stared at Finnick's retreating back, smiling slightly at all the times he'd saved me in one way or another. I wondered if I'd ever see him again but shook my head to clear it when I felt my eyes stinging with unshed tears. For God's sake I was _not_ about to start crying over Finnick Odair.

Without another thought on the matter, I turned and took off silently sprinting towards where I had seen Cato before. I was careful to keep my breathing quiet and avoid rocks and dips in the ground that would have thrown me off balance but my hands were shaking and my mouth had become dry. It wasn't hard to find him; he was crouched behind a wall of collapsed boulders, not moved from where he was before. I skidded to a stop, a short distance away, my mouth dropping.

I hadn't seen him since the bloodbath. The last time we'd spoken, he'd kissed me.

The second he came into view, it was like nothing had changed since before we both we crowned victors. He was just as tall and intimidating on the outside but his eyes showed a different story. I soon noticed that the bags under his eyes were much bigger than I ever remembered, battle scars that I'd never seen before were marked all over his body. He looked tired and worn but he still looked like Cato. His face was wide with surprise and, I realised a moment later rather self-consciously, that he was probably thinking the same things about me.

Before I could stop myself, I rushed forwards and threw myself at him, right into his arms whether he was ready or not. I didn't care about the fact that he had left me right when I needed him most, how he had cheated on me with just about every woman in the Capitol, how he had ignored me and crippled my heart. All I could think about was how he could have died by now, easily, yet here he was. I could have died as well. I had never been more grateful for someone's presence in the entire world before.

"I've missed you so much," I choked out, ordering myself to get a grip before I made an idiot of myself but it was hard. His wood-smoke scent, his bewildered smile… it made it all so much harder to focus. I felt his arms tighten around me, trembling slightly.

"I was so worried about you," he breathed, shakily.

I pulled back in wonder, confused out of my mind but happy nonetheless. I questioned whether it was a dream altogether, which seemed quite probable. Seeing him, holding him like that, made me comprehend just how much I loved him. _Still_. Coming close to dying so many times made me crave him back in my life again even harder.

He stared at me in awe for a little while longer.

"You… hate me," he stated as if he knew it for a fact.

I raised my eyebrows, crossing my arms at him.

"Says who?"

"Um, said _you_. On quite a few occasions." There was a shadow of a smile behind his lips. "There was the whole business with the, _you know_," he avoided saying aloud that he was a Capitol prostitute, as the whole business was in fact illegal and we were on camera.

I looked down and shrugged a little.

"I know. I mean – you never actually told me why you did it."

He let out a low chuckle which sounded more like a tired bark.

"I tried to. I came to see you, remember? To explain. You weren't having it, though. Of course, I should have known how stubborn you were." He rolled his eyes but then turned more serious, keeping his voice hushed but I didn't know if the cameras would still pick it up. "After we became victors… Snow came to me and he told me…," he choked a little and took a few breaths throughout the sentence as if it physically pained him to say it, "he said you would… that he would kill you. He said the only way he'd leave you alone was if… if I did this for him." He hung his head in shame at the end of his short explanation.

I felt my face grow shocked as he spoke, my eyes stinging.

"Oh my God," was all I could murmur. All this time it had really never occurred to me that Snow had threatened _me_. Cato had done this for _me_. He had left me to save my own life. I placed a hand on my face and inhaled some of the thick, humid air, my eyes fluttering closed. "Oh my God."

"I always wanted to tell you… but obviously that was against the rules." He shrugged apologetically and in that second, I couldn't help myself.

I leant forwards and grabbed his face in my hands, yanking him towards me and pressing out lips together roughly. There was little tenderness; it was pure emotion, all the feeling I'd had bottled up inside me for so long came rushing to the surface, almost blinding me. His lips were soft against mine, his sweet breath so familiar yet this new sense of complete, whole honesty was new to me. There was a salty dampness that I could taste which made me realise that_, oh my God,_ I was crying. I snapped out of it, pulling away and swiping at my face furiously until I was composed again.

"Damn, stupid cameras," I muttered, making Cato laugh.

I looked up at him, still in an utter state of shock. Did I really just make up with him after being apart for so long? I thought back to Johanna's words to me. _He still loves you_. Thinking about Johanna also reminded me of another thing she was saying to me as I was about to kill her. _He won't forgive you if you kill me_.

"What about Mason?" I asked Cato.

He looked confused, his eyebrows furrowing.

"What about her?"

"Aren't you mad at me? I did murder her, after all."

He just stared at me with an expression of amusement across his face.

"I forgive you."

I exhaled in relief. Maybe she _had_ meant nothing to him after all. I felt my entire body relax, _properly_ for the first time in nearly a year. I looked up at Cato and I couldn't help smiling.

I blinked a minute later as something occurred to me.

"You started that fire this morning, didn't you?"

He looked away sheepishly.

"Well… yeah."

I nodded, although I realised a part of me had already known.

"Finnick's gonna notice I've gone by now," I commented absently.

"He'll get over it."

I nodded in agreement.

"I suppose."

He grinned down at me, a sparkle in his eye which I hadn't seen for so long. He seemed so much more himself. I almost started crying again.

"So I was wondering…" he began, a playful edge to his voice.

"Yeah?"

Before he finished the sentence, he reached down to kiss me again, this time much more gentle and careful, on the side of my mouth like he sometimes used to back in District 2 when we were supposed to be training but Brutus had his back turned. I felt my heart rate pick up to the point where I wasn't sure how much longer it was going to last before faltering and giving up completely. Cato's bottomless, cerulean bored into mine.

"Wanna be allies?"


End file.
